


When Fates Collide

by DestinyCall21



Series: Generations [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-12 08:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 42,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyCall21/pseuds/DestinyCall21
Summary: Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn't happy with the pacing of the last story, and as much as I love the idea of including real life things in Sherlock Holmes it wasn't working out how I imagined. Therefore I started fresh and new, keeping the same character yet making her the niece of Ms. Hudson. Please do be kind in the comments and enjoy this new story! Rated M for future Mature Themes.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

There were many things I loathed about London. From the smells of smoke from the factories where my father worked, to the rat infested streets were disease and filth seemed to pile high above my head. The bitter cold of the winter often left my family sick, and the little food my father had managed to bring in meant most of the time we would go hungry. I was the second eldest child of 5, and at the mere age of 9 I was sent away for schooling, though because of our poor income the best my older sister and I had was a Ragged School. Saying goodbye to my father for the last time for soon after our departure for a better life, he passed away. To say I was a model student would be a lie, while other students learned to read and write, I was often found drawing or lost in my own little world. Often punished for misbehavior, I eventually left school at the age of 18 finding work as a domestic worker for an upper class family in Westminster. For 11 long years I served them, going from a scullery maid to housekeeper before I was let go, accused of having romantic relations with the man of the home.

With no where to turn I was taken in by the last person I expected, a family member on my mother's side. Martha Hudson, a landlady living in Westminster, my Aunt. Offered a job, cleaning the rooms of tenants living in the building, making food and doing laundry and I would have food and shelter once more. Now standing outside the building, I glanced down to the telegram that had brought me here, checking the address before knocking on the door. I wasn't sure what to expect, I'd never met my mother's side of the family for they had disowned my mother years ago for loving a poor man. When the door opened, I took a deep breath as I came face to face with the woman who had offered me the job.

Martha Hudson, an older woman with Copper hair speckled with grey and blue eyes surrounded with wrinkles. A kind and gentle woman based off her appearance, yet there was stress hidden deep down, from what I did not know. "I was expecting something different." She smiled kindly, wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her chest. For a moment I hesitated, not sure of what to do. Soon my arms wrapped around her in return, holding her tight thankful she didn't share in the same feeling her father had for my mother's past actions.

"Erika Irvine." She said once she pulled away, tucking a stray piece of my golden hair behind my ear. "You are a spitting image of your mother." That made me smile, as tears filled my eyes. "Come lets get you set in a room, then I'll make us some tea." She said, ushering me in from the cold London night. Thanking her, I grabbed my bags and followed her inside. After the long life I had live up until 29, I had finally found a place to which I belong. As we made our way through the parlor, I glance towards the stairs which led to the rooms the tenants lived in, my gaze meeting that of a man on his way out. Dark brown eyes met with my Copper ones, as I came to a halt watching him walk through the door.

"Who was that?" I questioned, still looking towards the door with a slight frown on my face. Mrs. Hudson frown as well, sighing heavily. I looked to her out of curiosity, wondering if he was the reason behind her stress.

"That my dear is Mr. Holmes. I suggest you stay away from him, he's not in the right of mind." Was her response as she continued down towards my room, while I stood still looking towards the front door once more. Mr. Holmes? No she couldn't possibly mean, Sherlock Holmes? The great detective. Shaking my head I followed after her, not knowing that it was indeed the famed man I had read about in the paper. Our fates had brought us together for the first yet not the final time." It isn't much, but you have a bed and a roof over your head." She said once we entered the room.

Looking around I smiled, setting my bag down on the floor before sitting down on the bed. She was right, it wasn't much but it was more than I'd ever known. "It's more than I've ever known." I said exactly what I'd been thinking, looking to her with a grateful smile.

"There aren't many rules, aside from not taking what isn't yours and making sure the rooms are clean. But due stay away from Mr. Holmes's room, he's not keen on people touching or moving his things." She instructed and I nodded, understanding what my job would be. "Be sure to be up at dawn to help with breakfast, most of the tenants have early jobs and insist on a good meal before they leave."

"I understand Ma'am." I responded right away before she stepped forward, placing a kind hand to my cheek. Oh how she reminded me of my mother. The same kind eyes and smile that made me feel safe and sound. "You don't have to worry, I take my job seriously Aunt Martha." She nodded, knowing that I was true to my word.

"I know you are my dear." She said, moving towards the door. "I will leave you to unpack, when you are finished I expect you in the parlor for tea." With that I was alone. Kneeling down beside my bag, I hung my dresses in the closet and placed my undergarments in the drawer before brushing my hair and making myself presentable when I caught the same brown eyes I'd seen from before in the mirror. Turning around I held up the brush as my weapon, not phasing the man in the slightest.

"Two Hudson's living under the same house." Mr. Holmes had said, his tone bored yet with a hint of amusement. I stayed silent for a moment as I took in his appurtenance. Unruly hair, tall yet thin compared to other men, however he had muscles and obviously hygiene wasn't his first priority. Glaring at him for intruding into my room, I held tight to the brush in my hand ready for anything.

"Irvine." I corrected him. His eyebrow rose, obviously surprised that my Aunt and I didn't share the same surname, though he hid that emotion expertly. "Erika Irvine. Ms. Hudson is my mothers sister." I added on lowering the brush, yet making sure he knew how inappropriate it was for him to be in my room with a constant glare. "Now if you wouldn't mind sir, I must ask you to leave my room." And with that he was gone, leaving me standing with brush in hand watching the door shut behind him. Turning back to the mirror I finished brushing my hair, when I stopped for a moment looking towards the door. How did he know that Ms. Hudson and I are family?**  
**


	2. First Few Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Waking up at dawn was never easy, even though I've been doing so for 11 years, maybe its age making it harder to rise from bed, get dressed and out the door. Then again I am only 29 years old, I have no room to complain, yet somehow as I stand in front of the mirror attempting to brush my golden locks, I can't stop a yawn from rising and escaping my lips. Setting my brush back on top of the dresser, I fixed my hair in a tight bun, pinning it place before moving to the closet and picking from the limited variety of dresses before stepping out of my room and into the kitchen. Aunt Martha was already starting breakfast when I entered, and she smiled when she spotted me. Returning the emotion with a smile of my own I moved to the sink and washed my hands, ready to help out anyway I could. Grabbing plates and silver wear, I set the table before grabbing the pot of tea that had been steeping as well as cups and saucers returning to the table and setting them down for the people who'd soon be coming down for dinner. Returning to the kitchen I grabbed some ashes from the fireplace as well as vinegar and beginning on cleaning the dishes from the night before, all the while humming softly in an attempt to keep me awake.

Soon enough tenants had filed down for food, most of which were single men dressed in their best clothes yet another woman stood out, dressed in a beautiful teal with black ruffled cuffs and a hat with a big ostrich feather on top. Almost all of those who lived in the building my Aunt own were down for breakfast, all except one. I figured he wasn't a morning person, when I was told he rarely came out to eat, preferring to take his food in his room, if he ate at all. Then I was told that after I was done with the dishes that I was to clean the parlor, which I nodded to in understanding and soon I was left alone in the kitchen while my only company in the room left to feed the people in the other room. I went back to humming when she left, using all the muscle I had accumulated after years of working at the other residence I made quick work of the dishes that were there, and as soon as the men in the parlor left for their jobs I was cleaning up after the meal, then cleaning the windows and finally the floor. Happily scrubbing away at the wood I never noticed the front door open and close, but soon I was greeted by a Bulldog standing beside me. A beautiful dog in it own way, all white aside from the brown spot on its back. Setting the rag I had been using down I reached my hand out, letting the animal sniff the top of it before giving it a pat on the head. Soon enough it's owner appeared from around the corner, calling out for my Aunt who had gone back to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, looked down to me and instantly I rose to my feet, hands clasped together in front of me and I bowed my head.

"Good morning sir." I said in a quiet and polite tone. Aunt Hudson appeared then, drying her hands on a rag as she bowed her head as well. I stood there and watched, knowing it was polite to be seen cleaning the floor when guests were around, but soon I was told to get back to cleaning while the other adults whispered quietly back and forth. I knew it was wrong to listen in, but if it was secrets they were discussing, I assume they would have left the room rather than speak right in front of me.

"I'm not going up there." Aunt Martha said in a hushed tone as she handed off a tray with a pot of tea and two cups. For a moment I sat there confused of what she walk talking about before realizing she was talking about the mad man upstairs who never came down for breakfast. "He's on a diet of tea, coca beans and tobacco. I must insist Doctor you must get him to a sanatorium." Coca beans, tea and tobacco? Was he really that insane? Shaking my head I paid it no mind, for it had nothing to do with me. Finally the man spoke, his tone just as hush as hers, as he took the tray from her hands giving a soft chuckle.

"I'll see to it that he gets something to eat." The Doctor replied. Was this man here to check on the mad man, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps he was the man's doctor, then again I highly doubt it based one what had been said between the two. Then there were two sets of eyes on me, as I knelt on the ground and scrubbed the floor. "I see you've hired a new maid. How long before he scares this one off?" He questioned, and once again I was up on my feet looking to the other adults with a smile on my face. I was introduced to the Doctor and he to me, as I bowed once more hands clasped in front of me. "You're niece you say? Interesting, hope she has the same patience as you do Ms. Hudson." Now that caught me off guard, but a moment after he spoke three shots from a gun echoed through the building. I covered my ears and ducked, fearing that the home had been fired upon. Looking to the other two, they stood still looking somewhat annoyed. Were we not under attack? 

Doctor Watson left soon after, apologizing to my Aunt as he headed upstairs and through the door. Gunpower drifted through the parlor, along with the familiar scent of tobacco and then the door slammed shut. Looking to my Aunt I stood there amazed that for some reason, she had not charged up there and done something about the gunfire. "Don't worry my dear, this is just a normal day in this house I'm afraid." And with that she was back in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. A normal day? Since when was a it a normal day to fire a gun indoors? Looking to the bulldog that had made itself comfortable on the chair, I sighed knelt back down and continued my work. Scrubbing the floor, humming to myself listening to the light sounds of the two men walking around upstairs wondering just what I had gotten myself into by taking this job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you've enjoyed my new take on this story. Again please be kind in the comments! I hope to have the next chapter up tomorrow, maybe even later today.


	3. Impossible Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

It had only been a month that I'd been working for my Aunt, and already I had been given the day off to explore the city. I wasn't new to Westminster, I'd lived here for years having working for another family but I had rarely been allowed to walk the streets. Exploring the city I had walked for an hour down the paved streets finding my way from Baker Street to Oxford passing by the department stores that lined the streets. Every now and then I'd come to a stop outside a store, looking in through the windows and admiring the beautiful dresses on display. Colors ranging from the lightest blue to darkest red, with hats adorned with feathers and flowers, all of which were high above my price range. Though it didn't stop me from wishing for a dress that I've seen the upper class women wearing, even if it would never happen for a woman in my position. Moving away from the window, I turned to continued down the street ready to head home stopping when I heard somebody call my name. The voice was familiar, something I hadn't heard in what felt like ages, turning around I smiled when greeted by arms wrapping around my neck and a quiet giggle from a former maid that worked with me back at the other home from which I was let go.

"Caroline, it's been to long." I commented, laughing ever so slightly as we parted. Caroline Davies, a woman much like myself, born into poverty and orphaned at a young age. She had started working just a year after I had, and from the moment she stepped into the servants quarters we had become close friends. Dressed in the clothes of a lady, with a hat pinned to her chestnut hair, certainly not the look for women who worked as domestic servants. "My I must say you look beautiful Caroline, must have married a fine man." I stated marveling at her beautiful beige silk dress, which she spun around in to show off the entire outfit.

"A fine man indeed. You remember the oldest son of Mr and Mrs. Jones? Well as it be when they passed he inherited the family fortune and asked for my hand. Unprecedented, I know but Henry was never one for tradition." She explained, her tone full of glee and happiness. "But enough about me, I want to hear all about what you've been up to since that retched woman threw you out." She said linking her arm with mine as we made our way down Oxford Street towards Piccadilly Circus. As we walked I explained everything I'd gone through after I had been fired from my work at the Jones Estate, my reunion with my Aunt, run in with one of the tenants and then the gunshots that echoed off the walls of the building, the entire time she listened in silence nodding every so often and responding with "I see." 

We came to a stop outside another store, this one displaying the same beautiful dresses as the last, and against my wishes on entering we did. She ran off to look for a new dress, while I browsed the aisles admiring the dresses and hats. Stopping at one in particular I let my hand brush the silk purple material, listening to the other ladies gossip and whisper back and forth about my appearance. I'd been told I was beautiful, with pale skin, golden locks and brown eyes and yet due to the class in which I was born, I would forever be the ugly duckling compared to the swans that walked the streets of Westminster. Pulling my hand back from the dress I searched Caroline, spotting her looking over one of the catalogues at the counter.

"Purple isn't your color anyway." That voice, the same one that had snuck up on me the first day I arrived on Baker Street. Turning my head he wasn't hard to spot in the populated store, though he looked completely different that the first time I had seen him. "The color teal is more suited for a woman with blonde hair, perhaps a light blue." Why was he here? The last I saw of him, he was leaving with the Doctor early that morning and since it was no business of mine where he went, I didn't ask. 

"I never picked you for one to know about fashion Mr. Holmes." I responded, turning away I continued to browse the many dresses that decorated the store. "Isn't there wall space back at Baker Street that are in need of some bullet holes? Or perhaps a new experiments for that poor dog that you've been wanting to try." He was following me through the store, watching my every step and actions when I turned to face him. What was his game here? Annoy me like he seemed to enjoy tormenting my Aunt? "Was there something you needed because as you can see I'm very busy." I stated, growing slowly more annoyed by his presence the longer I walked around. Soon I stopped just before a display of art supplies, brushes and canvas that begged to be used. I loved to draw, a habit my mother and I shared before I went off to school. I didn't dare touch them, even for art supplies the prices were expensive, far more than the 10 pounds I made from cleaning rooms.

"You're here against your will, preferring to look through the windows rather than go into a shop and be ridiculed for your appearance." He replied, bringing me back to the situation. It was true that I kept out of the shops, knowing full well of what I looked like compared to the other women in the store. "Caroline Jones, wife of Henry Jones the son of the estate you in which you worked before being let go after years of service. She like you worked in the kitchens, yet after you were forced to leave she took your position as housekeeper and then wife. Completely breaks tradition, marrying a maid, often the gossip of any formal party." Looking from the art supplies to the man behind me, who had his eyes on Caroline.

"I'm sure the last thing they are worried about is the gossip of traditionalists and elder ladies." I responded looking to the chestnut haired woman at the counter with a smile on my face. "True love is..."

"Impossible."

"Beautiful." Our heads turned towards each other after the words left our mouths. "My mother married a man who was of lower class than herself, then disowned by her family because of their union. Are you saying that she gave up everything for something that is impossible?" I questioned. He didn't respond, I had stumped the man by playing into his game. Yes talking to him was a game, he questions you and in return you question him, at least that's what Doctor Watson had said in passing. "True love while rare in this day and age is a very possible thing Mr. Holmes." With that Caroline had made her way to my side, linking her arm with my own. She looked from me to the brown eyed man in front of us, hoping for some for of introduction, instead I bowed my head to him. "Good day Mr. Holmes." I said, before making my way towards the door, pulling my former coworker with me.

"Who was that?" She questioned once we were back on the streets, looking back to the shop we'd left behind.

"An impossible man."


	4. The Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer****:** I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.****

* * *

Summer had come and gone, and what felt like yesterday when I first arrived at 221b Baker Street has been 2 months. The warmth of the summer sun was traded from the crisp winds of fall, as the leaves changed color and fell to the ground. People were bundled up in coats, beige summer dresses were hung up and darker colors took their place. My favorite season of the 4, just from the strange smell that came with the fall and the cool breeze that would blow in through the open window. I had finished my work for the day, aside from the laundry which was hung outside drying, and while I waited I had dug out my old sketchbook my mother had given me and homemade charcoal I had managed to get from the fireplace in the parlor, drawing the only subject I had which was the bulldog that had been dropped off a few hours ago. Gladstone slept on the couch across from me, peacefully snoring which made it easy for me to capture the moment. Now I was no professional, I hadn't learned to draw in school, most of the time I had been punished for drawing in class, but I would consider myself an casual artist. I knew about shadows, how to capture different colors given the only color I had at hand was black and I knew about distances, but I'd never had my hands of other colors nor did I have the imagination to make up something unique. 

Instead I needed a subject or go based off my memory for my drawings, and the longer they sat still the more detail I could capture. That didn't happen this time, when the door opened Gladstone was up off the couch to greet whomever had entered with a bark, leaving me sitting still with half a drawing. I sighed, setting my sketchbook down along with my charcoal and went to greet the person who interrupted my peace, only to be greeted with the only man in the apartments that I simply could not stand. I had prayed that perhaps by some chance that he'd be gone all day, yet there he was shutting the door behind him pushing my subject aside with his foot. I didn't say a word as I moved to the back door, needing to make the beds upstairs and fold clothes before the other tenants returned but when I entered with they dry clothes I found him sitting in the chair, holding my sketchbook in his hand. Normally I wouldn't had been bothered, yet the fact that he didn't like his things being touched and had made it clear that everything in that room of his wasn't to be moved, it bothered me.

"Having been born into poverty, you certainly have the skills of a professional artist, a hobby you share with your mother. Attention to details is nearly perfect, meaning you draw from memory when you're without a subject." It never failed to amaze me that he knew so much about me, and I barely had said anything to him in the past 2 months other than bickering. He flipped through the book, and I held my tongue not having the energy to argue with a man who was 100 times more intelligent that me. Soon he stopped on a page, and I knew which one it was just by the brief look of surprise in his eyes as he lifted the page from its resting place in my book and turned it around towards me. "Nearly a perfect match for something you've done with only your memory to guide you." The profile was of the very man holding it, and as he stated it had been done by memory a week prior, though I had wished to forget that I had drawn it when I was without a subject.

"Being born into poverty doesn't mean one can't pick up art as a hobby, and yes my mother and I shared that passion." Again how could he know so much about me? "Perhaps if I had a subject that sat still long enough, I wouldn't have to resort to my memory." I said as politely as I could as I moved from the room, taking the dry laundry up to their rooms, leaving him with my sketchbook. I made the beds in the several rooms as quickly as I could, folding clothes and tucked them away in drawers or hung them up, and by the time I had made it downstairs he had left. My sketchbook sat on the table beside the chair, yet my charcoal I had gotten from the fireplace was missing, in it's place was sat a pouch. Stepping forward I unrolled the leather container, finding charcoal and other supplies an artist would use all professionally crafted and unused. Rolling it back up, I grasped the pouch in my hand, marched up the stairs and into the room I hadn't dared to enter since I started working here. I didn't knock, I walked straight in finding him sitting on the floor with a violin in hand. "You have no right giving me this." I said, holding the pouch out towards him. He didn't turn to look so I stepped in further, still holding out trying as politely as I could to reject the gift. "I am nothing more than a maid, I clean rooms, clean dishes and get paid for my work. Besides you hardly know me, so please..." I insisted, only then did he look up at me.

"You have an eye for detail and the hand of an artist. I have no use for such tools, and they are better suited for you." He replied, catching me off guard. "You are an intriguing individual, frustrating so." Did I head that right? I was intriguing? That made no sense, as every time we had spoken he was either judging my upbringing or stating things that he couldn't possibly know about me. "Now you have work to do, and we wouldn't want Ms. Hudson finding out that you're slacking on your job." He said, picking away at his violin. I could take a hint, so making my way towards the door in which I had storm through, I set the leather pouch down on a table before stepping out and shutting the door behind me. Walking down the stairs I gathered my sketchbook, setting it down on my dresser, failing to notice that the portrait I had drawn of him was missing as I went back to work preparing dinner.

By the time I went to bed, it was just past Ten, exhausted I laid down in my clothes and fell asleep. When I woke the next morning I couldn't help but the notice the return of the leather pouch sitting upon my dresser beside my sketchbook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it can be confusing with the time skips, but I want to move things along to put more detail into Erika. Thank you for the kind comments, and I hope you're enjoying the story.


	5. Case Solved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

I loved the sound of rain, the quiet pitter and patter of the drops of water falling from the sky and landing on the roof. Not that I could hear it well from where I sat in the parlor, tending to a shirt that I'd been given to med. I wasn't alone today, instead I had the rare pleasure of having both Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson sitting across from me, with the Doctor's dog under my seat snoring softly. It had been raining nonstop for the past few days, meaning most were indoors and those unlucky enough to be trapped in the storm carried umbrella's to shield themselves from the water droplets. The fire crackling in the fireplace warmed the house, almost unbearably so yet I didn't complain, instead I kept my attention on my work, sewing the shirt a tenant had torn while humming quietly to myself. Every now and then I would glance up to the men seated across from me, watching the Doctor flip telegrams sent in filled with cases as Mr. Holmes listened silently, only commenting when he'd already solved in his head. It never ceased to amaze me, in the months that I'd been here, that somehow he seemed to know everything about everyone. Looking back to my task, I went back to humming, listening to them talk back and forth.

"Missing woman, last seen heading home from the pub at 10pm in Whitechapel." The Doctor said, peeking the attention of Mr. Holmes as well as myself. It wasn't anything new when woman disappeared in Whitechapel, only to be discovered dead. There was the canonical five a few years ago, victims of a blood thirsty man known as the Ripper and because of the state of the district that I once called home, it didn't surprise me in the slightest. Then he read the name, "Ada Edwards, age 28 better know as..."

"Ole Bess." I finished the sentence. Soon I could feel two sets of eyes upon me, and as I looked up I looked between the two with shrugging my shoulders. "We grew up together in the same slums, were close friends before I was sent to school. If she's anything like her mother she's either passed out drunk somewhere or in the arms of some rich man she'd slept with." Looking back down to my needle work, I tied off the end and cut the string before folding the shirt and laying it on my lap. "She'll turn up in a day or two, I assume." When I stood, their eyes followed my every movement. Was it something I had said? I was just recalling the memories I had of my childhood and friendship with the woman they were talking about, was that wrong? 

"Assuming she doesn't turn up, and had been found dead what would be her demise?" Holmes inquired, taking me off guard. Was this a test?

"It would either be the excessive drinking she'd been doing while looking for a man to spend the night with, that or illness. As I'm sure you're well aware that the state of Whitechapel has been sadly declining." I replied quickly, my eyes locked on his and for a split second I saw excitement. "Then again it could have just as easily been murder, as you know just recently another has been found dead..."

"Frances Coles." He responded, no surprise he knew all about the Whitechapel Murders. Due to the activities of the Ripper, the whole world knew about them, but the man who had brutally murdered his way across the district had gone, most presumed him dead or imprisoned. "A woman found dead under a railway arch, throat slit twice. Only suspect was Mr. James Sadler who was later released due to lack of evidence."

I wasn't what one would call intelligent, not by any means at all. But I would read the paper when I got a chance, thankfully having the ability to read and write from my time in school. Therefore I knew all about the murders of those who didn't have the chance at a better life, the canonical five as well as the others that had followed for the 4 years after. "As I said, I assume she'll be found passed out drunk somewhere. If she is dead she's one of the lucky ones, Whitechapel has become a cesspit of death and depravity." It wasn't right to talk about the district where I grew up in such a way, but it was the truth. Perhaps if I hadn't left when I did, I would have been in the same state as Ada. Silence seeped in once more between the three of us, as they took in what I was saying in.

"Case solved." He finally said, sitting back in his seat with a faint grin on his face. It was a test! Instead of giving solving the case himself, as he had been doing before, I had given them without realizing it. Standing there shocked, I looked between the two men, feeling proud that I had managed to solve a case, small as it was. Though which of the outcomes that would befall my old friend remained a mystery, was she alive as I had stated or another victim of Whitechapel? With that I turned on my heel, needing to finish up with the chores of the day before starting on dinner. Heading up the stairs, I entered the apartment, laid the shirt in it's drawer, before heading back down the stairs finding that Doctor Watson had left, yet Mr. Holmes remained. "I have been meaning to visit the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square for a while now, Perhaps you wouldn't mind joining me."

Did I hear that right? Was he asking me to join him, in an art gallery, which mind you would be a day at the fair for me? "Are you sure viewing art won't bore you?" I asked, amused at the idea that he'd stand around, looking at art for a day. I didn't picture him the type of person to stay in one place for more than an hour, not that I've known him for long so I had no right to assume.

"Woman I'll have you know that I thoroughly enjoy standing around looking at art that was painted decades ago." That was a lie, I could tell.

"Since you ask so nicely, I would be honored to join you." I accepted his offer before moving from the room and into the kitchen, beginning dinner for the tenants before they and my Aunt returned home. Peeking into the parlor, he had disappeared having gone leaving me alone on the main floor. Only then did realization sink in, that I would be completely alone with the man that drove me insane, yet I didn't mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have plans for the next chapter, but I'm still doing a ton of research on places and people of the day back then. I'm also doing a ton of research for characters from the book, which is taking up time. I hope to have the next chapter up sometime tomorrow or the next day, so keep an eye out for it. Please enjoy.


	6. Art Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, really keeps this story alive and going. As I said, I have big plans for where I want to take this and since the summary says there's danger involved, I'm sure you can guess where it will eventually lead. I've taken some liberties with this story, mainly for progression purposes, hope that doesn't bother anyone. Its a small, and I don't feel like it messes with the character at all. Please enjoy!

### Chapter Text

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Today would be the day I would be completely alone with Sherlock Holmes, looking at art despite the fact I knew that this wasn't his idea of fun even if he had said it was. When I awoke at dawn I was expecting to get dressed for work, yet hanging from the back of my door wasn't my uniform instead there sat the purple and black dress I had first laid my eyes on months ago. It wasn't hard to guess where it had come from, the only person, besides Caroline, that had been there that day had been the same person that invited to the National Gallery. Part of my wanted to march up the stairs and once again decline the kind gesture, but after the many attempts of returning the leather bound pouch of art supplies, I had given up for it would just end up back in the same place. Letting my fingers trace the delicate lace that lined the cuffs of the dress, it took a moment for me to undress and redress starting with drawers and chemise before wondering how on earth I'd lace the corset. For a moment I debated using the door handle or bedpost when the door opened and in stepped Aunt Martha. I could see from the look in her eye that she'd been worried about me spending the day with the mad detective, but like any proper lady she held her tongue. Instead she motioned for me to turn, and soon enough she was lacing up the back of the death trap around me. When she finished with that she helped me with the bustle pad, the shirt, the petticoat and finally the skirt. I pity the woman that wear this day after day, the heat that came from the many layers could easily cause them to faint and the death trap holding my waist in made it hard to breathe, but it was beautiful. I was for once in my life, a proper lady. Standing by the mirror I took it all in, moving side to side as I watched the skirt around my waist flow with a sad smile on my face.

"Come let me do your hair." Aunt Martha said in a quiet voice, moving a chair out for me to sit. I did as I was told, and slowly lowered myself into the seat, sitting up straight as she combed through my hair. There were no words spoken between us as she braided my golden hair, securing it into a bun and combed the front of my hair up away from my face. Soon enough my hair was done and with that I rose from my seat, put on the purple jacket with black ruffled cuffs. "You look like a proper young lady." She said. I was still a maid, despite the fine clothing that had been hung on the door, though just for today I would relish in the fact that I did feel like a proper woman, an imposter yes, but even so. Stepping into my shoes I returned to my seat to lace them before making my way towards the door.

He stood in the parlor, and for a second I barely recognized him. Dressed in a day suit, with a waistcoat nearly matching in color to that of my dress and for once he had bathed. With Pipe in hand he turned towards me, his eyes looking at me from head to toe before he cleared his throat. He didn't say a word, instead he held an arm out to me, which I took as we headed outside to the carriage that sat waiting. When seated the door closed and soon we were on our way to Trafalgar Square. Most of the trip across Westminster was quiet, I watched the world pass by through the window while his eyes laid on me. To say it was an awkward trip would be an understatement, but the he finally broke the silence with something I'd never thought I'd hear him say, "I was wrong about that dress, it does suit you." It was a strange way to give a compliment, but he was a strange man, an impossible one.

"Thank you." Was my response before silence set in between us one more. I can't explain the feeling I had knowing his eyes were upon me, it was not embarrassment but something else that sent butterflies to my stomach. Every time I would glance at him he would turn his head, but soon enough brown eyes were upon me once more as if they were magnetized to me by an invisible force. After what seemed like an eternity of silence between him and I, we had arrived at Trafalgar Square. The carriage had come to a stop and he had exited, holding out his hand to help me out and down the step to the ground. In all the years that I'd lived in Westminster, this was the first time I had ever stepped foot in the square. From the fountains that lay in front of the National Gallery, to the building itself and Nelson's Column that sat closest to the street, it was beautiful. Taking the arm offered to me, we'd walked past the twin fountains up the stairs and into the Gallery and time seemed to stop. Marbled floor lined the halls, and the walls were painted a light blue. Above us was the dome, lined with gold yet what laid in the distance was what interested me most.

In silence we walked up the stairs into a room surrounded with paintings, truly this must be a dream. On every wall a painting sat, colors ranging from the darkest green to the lightest red professional done on canvas. From depictions of war to the quiet serenity of the countryside, all done decades ago by artists with passion and preserved for generations to see. Portraits lined the walls, landscapes depicting the world lost to innovation, and we stopped to see them all. Never once did he complain when I pulled him along, nor was he antsy to leave. Instead he was silent while I rambled on about colors, his eyes often drifting from the art back down towards me. After an hour of walking around the Gallery he came to a stop, and as I opened my mouth I was about to thank him once more for the chance to view the art, when I noticed his attention was elsewhere. His eyes were locked on another man across the room, watching every step and movement which soon peeked my interest.

"Do you know him?" I questioned, and when the man that had Sherlock's interest turn to look back towards us concern and fear had consumed me. Soon we were on the move, leaving behind the main room for another that was just as filled with art as the last. I didn't dare press him for answers, but I knew something was wrong and obviously something about the other man had concerned the usually calm and bored man. Throughout the rest of the day I couldn't shake the look from the other man, even while on our way back to Baker Street fear followed along.

"James Moriarty." He said in a whisper, breaking the silence between us as we sat in the carriage. I looked towards him, a frown on my face having completely missed what he had said. "You asked me if I knew that man, his name is James Moriarty. He's a professor at the Cambridge." He said this time loud enough for me to hear. I had heard of the man, a genius, the papers had said, a maths professor and author who is regarded for his word. Again I didn't dare press for more information, I simply remained quiet yet I didn't return my gaze back out the window.

"Thank you." I said, changing the subject about the Professor. He looked towards me, confusion evident in his eyes. "For taking me to the Gallery, I enjoyed my time." For that I gained a grin from him, a rare show of emotion. He nodded his head and lit his pipe, and turned his brown eyes to the city outside. He would never admit it, that he enjoyed his time looking at paintings that were done decades ago yet I knew, and that fact made me smile. 

"I enjoyed my time with you." He said. That same feeling from before had returned, the butterflies fluttering in my stomach replacing the fear as my face glowed with a pink tint. "Perhaps we could do this again sometime." Sounds like a brilliant plan to me.


	7. Friendly Bickering?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

November 25th 1890, a day that I would remember as being one of the coldest days of my life. Every time someone stepped through the door I would shiver from the bitter winds that blew in, snuggling closer to the fire and I was not alone as Gladstone moved closer and closer towards the flames with every cold breeze. With every movement the beast made I'd be forced to look up from my drawing, take a biscuit I had made earlier in the day break off a piece, and toss it towards him in order to keep him still. I wasn't about to lose my work again, not when I had little paper left as it was, and I'm sure he appreciated the treat because after each bite he'd lay still for a while before moving again for another piece.

"If this keeps up, I'm going to have to explain to your owner why you've gained so much weight." I warned, setting the charcoal down glaring to the dog. "And what will he think of me when I'm the sole reason of that gain?" He whined and I gave in, this time tossing an entire treat towards him hoping that would satisfy him enough for me to finish. Sitting in silence it wasn't hard to hear the footsteps coming down the stairs, and I knew what it meant. I didn't look up from my work and thankfully Gladstone remained still, then the footsteps stopped. "If you're down here to experiment on my subject again Mr. Holmes, I will be forced to take that concoction and inject you with it." A defeated sigh followed, and footsteps retreated back up the stairs. I'd been here long enough to know that the moment he was left alone with the dog, he'd find something he needed to test on a live subject, and my art would once again go unfinished. Soon he was back downstairs, sitting down in the chair across from me, eyes watching every movement from my hand to my calm breathing. "If you continue to stare, perhaps I should go and fetch the photographer." I said, keeping my eyes on my work, blending darker colors with my fingers and applying more darkness where there should be shadows.

Once completed I set the charcoal down, blew off the residue and admired the scene I had managed to capture. Tossing Gladstone one last treat as a sign of appreciation I set the sketchbook down on the table and lifted my glass of tea to my lips, before glancing to Sherlock who looked away out the window. This wasn't out of the ordinary. He'd watch me, I'd look at him and quickly he'd turn his gaze away as if not wanting me to know what he was doing. Setting the glass down, I picked up my plate of biscuits returned them to the kitchen and returned to the parlor and sat down to enjoy the warmth on a cold day. Then I sighed, letting my eyes drift closed for a moment resting after a long day of cleaning the house. I'd been up since dawn, helped prepare breakfast before cleaning every room aside from the laundry that would have to wait until the weather warmed so I could hang it to dry. With the crackling fire and the distinct smell of tobacco, I could easily fall asleep where I sat but there were still things to do before everyone returned home. Opening my eyes I glanced over once more, his attention still outside to the icy world which gave me a moment to take in the details of his face. The strong jaw line, the stubble that he never shaved, the faint scars from fights he'd been in. Then eyes were on me, now I'd ben caught staring and our situations had changed.

"If you continue to stare, perhaps you should go and fetch the photographer." He said, using the very same thing I had said to him against me. I didn't stop the giggle as I turned my gaze away, shaking my head as I sat up straight in my seat.

"I wouldn't need a photograph if I knew what happened to the drawing I had of you." I responded, though I knew he had taken it and hidden it somewhere in that mess of a room never to be seen again. "Seems it went missing the day you were looking through my sketchbook."

"There are plenty of thieves out there that steal art." He responded and I nodded. Yes there were those out there that stole art and sold it for a high price, but I highly doubt someone would take a drawing, done by memory, from a woman who drew as a hobby. But I'd play into his game, enjoying bickering with the world most intelligent man.

"It would have to be the work of master thieves to break in without a sign of forced entry." I said, taking my glass again sipping from the hot tea to mask the growing smile on my face. "You wouldn't happen to know someone that would keep my art?" I set my glass down I kept my eyes on the flames watching them dance in the fireplace, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Woman are you insinuating that I have taken it?" He questioned, glancing his way I watched the mask he wore slowly fade away as he tried and failed to hide the grin that slowly creeped its way to his face.

"I would never sir, I only asked if you might know someone crafty enough to break into my room, steal my art and get away without me ever knowing." I replied. Damn the smile that broke out across my cheeks, what seemed impossible for me, he had learned how to master hiding emotions. "Though if I remember right, the last one to see the drawing was you. I can't imagine why you'd keep it though, it was done by memory and not at all correct."

"It was perfectly imperfect." Was that another compliment? I should really keep a journal for the things he says so that I know when he's complimenting and insulting, because it was becoming harder and harder to know the difference between the two. Even if it was a insult I still felt my cheeks heat and the butterflies return, fluttering around in my stomach. I finished off my tea, rose from my seat to take the cup and dish to the kitchen when a hand on my wrist stopped me from moving. Turn around I found myself staring up into brown eyes before taking note of the closeness between us. My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough I could hear every beat in my ears as his gaze drifted to my lips. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above my own and like clockwork the door opened. The dog barking in the background meant his owner had returned, and would soon find the compromising position of myself and Sherlock. With as quickly as he had taken my wrist, he was gone heading back up the stairs leaving me standing between the kitchen and parlor blushing and breathless.

"Did I interrupt something?" Doctor Watson asked when he entered the room. And before I could say a word I was walking into the kitchen, setting my dishes down and heading into my own room, shutting the door I leaned against it and took a few deep breaths. He had nearly kiss me. Any second longer and he would have! And god forgive me...I wanted him to.


	8. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

  
Three days had passed since the day he almost kissed me, and in those days I saw less and less of him. Either he had left early in the day working small cases or he'd locked himself in his room, and I won't lie it felt like someone had taken my heart and threw it to the dogs. I would never admit it to anyone, but I had feelings for the Sherlock Holmes, feelings I knew I shouldn't have for a man that somedays insulted me and others complimented me. A man that tormented all those living in the building with his antics, most of all my Aunt who often feared and loathed being alone with him. If it hadn't been for my day off, I'd still be there questioning if I should barge into the room and demand to know why he would have kissed me, and ultimately not because I'm not one to enjoy confrontation. Instead I spent the day with my sister, Charlotte, who had come home to visit from Scotland, doing some much needed shopping, stopping for some tea before walking through Hyde Park to enjoy the rare warmth of the November sun. Throughout the day I told her everything that had happened since I came to work for our Aunt Martha, how I met the mad detective, the art supplies I'd been gifted, the trip to the Gallery and then the almost kiss, and she listened quietly until I finished. When we sat to rest she brought up our father, and the accident that had befallen him, tears were shed and then there was silence. We'd talk the entire day, catching up on things we'd missed when she brought up mother my heart sank.

"Doctor's say its consumption, there is little they can do." Charlotte said, her voice heavy and saddened. "William and I have asked her to come live with us in Scotland, but you know how she can be. Stubborn as an ox." I nod, another trait I share with her. "I will not leave this house, it is where I raised my children and where I shall die for illness." She mocked our mother's tone, causing us both to giggle. Then she sighed, wrapping the shawl she'd brought along tighter around her body, looking towards the sky for a moment and then towards me. I did not return her gaze, instead I watched the few people in the park walk up and down the paved pathway, the memory of what could have happened if Doctor Watson had not returned when he had. She nudged me in the ribs with her elbow, gaining my attention from the slight pain rocketed through my body. "You're hopeless you know. In this day and age a woman doesn't need to wait for a man to make the first move, if I were you I'd march straight home and kiss him myself."

"No you wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't." We laugh again. "But just because I wouldn't do that, doesn't mean you can't." She said, resting her head against shoulder both of us looking towards the sky. "You're no coward Eri. You are the daughter of a hard working England man and a stubborn Scottish woman, don't ever forget that." I nod my head, a small smile on my face. She wasn't wrong, as much as I hated confronting a problem, usually keeping my mouth shut, I had my mother's Scottish spirit somewhere deep within me. Suddenly Charlotte's head was up off my shoulder and her attention was on a street seller, just a short walk from where we sat, selling hot chocolate. "Wait here." She said, standing up before heading down the pathway. I did as I was told, wrapping my own shawl tighter around my body while I waited patiently for her return, watching other people pass by. I will admit, perhaps it wasn't the warmest day to spend outside and I longed to return home to bundle up by the fire with my sketchbook, yet until my sister returned I did my best to keep the chill of the Autumn winds from freezing me to death.

It wasn't long before a man sat down beside me, and I was going to say something to him but the moment I turned my head to look at him I froze. I'd seen him before, at the Gallery and like then fear took hold and I moved to get up when a hand on my shoulder stopped me. "It's a cold day for a woman to be dress improperly, wouldn't you say?" He questioned and all I could do was nod. His voice was quiet, yet the way he phrased his words showed his intelligence. "I like cold days, there are less people here making it easy to feed the pigeons without children chasing them away." With that he tossed out breadcrumbs and like clockwork the invasive birds flew down from the sky peeking at the ground. I stayed quiet, though I could hear my heart beating wildly in my chest. Looking towards my sister I thought for a moment about calling for help, but I knew better. The hand on my shoulder from the man standing behind the bench made it very clear that I was to stay up and be quiet. "I mean you no harm Ms. Irvine, I simply only wish to talk." I didn't dare look at him, keeping my eyes on Charlotte hoping that she'd turn around and get help. "However that same sympathy will not be given to your sister." Was he reading my mind?

"I'll do what you want sir, but please don't hurt her." I stated, as I glanced towards the man keeping my voice low as to not draw attention of the people passing by. The hand on my shoulder tightened, soon I'd lost all feeling in my limb only making my heart beat facer in my chest. He grinned, pulled out his notebook and wrote something do before ripping it out and handing it to me.

"I want you to pass on a message to one of the tenants living on Baker Street." He replied, his voice colder than the icy winds that blew by. "Do you think you can do that?" I nod and he stands up, nodding to his friend who's grip loosened. "I hope to see you again Ms. Irvine." He stated. And as quickly as they had come, they we leaving just as Charlotte was returning with two cups in hand. She didn't move to sit back down, looking to the two men in the distance.

"Do you know them?" She questioned and I shook my head, giving her a smile as I took one of the cups with the only hand that worked.

"Let's get back shall we? It's getting colder out and the last thing we need is you delaying your trip home because you've gotten sick." I said, standing up and looking back to see the Professor and his friend gone. Charlotte agreed, and started down the street walking ahead of me chattering on, while we left the park behind us, the letter tucked away in my pocket.


	9. The First Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

  
I always hated saying goodbye, and after a week spent with Charlotte the time eventually came where she had to return home to her husband in Scotland. Tears were shed as she climbed into the carriage destined for the train station promising to write as soon as she could, and soon she was gone. The next day I was back to work, cleaning rooms, doing the laundry and making meals for the occupants a usual day for me that felt so odd after having a week off. After hanging up the laundry outside, grabbing my bucket and filling it with water from the pump I returned inside stopping in the kitchen to grab a rag so I could clean the parlor. "Normally I wouldn't ask this of you, but I need to run and get a few things from the grocer." Aunt Martha said as she moved into the kitchen, obviously it had been just as long of a day for her as it had for me. I nodded my head waiting to hear what she needed me to do when she asked the unthinkable. "Could you bring tea up to Mr. Holmes?" My world stopped. I had barely seen him since that day, for a time I thought perhaps he'd left, then I would be reminded when Doctor Watson would visit or the shouting matches between him and my Aunt. I nodded, despite the fact I wanted to say no, and soon I found myself with a tray in hand heading up the stairs to stand outside his room.

"Deep breaths." I told myself as I turned the doorknob and stepped into the room, and instantly I was greeted by the mess as well as the familiar scent of tobacco. Setting the tray down I stepped towards the curtains to let in some light, before taking a good look around. The room really needed a good cleaning, with papers thrown askew around the room, books covered with dust laying forgotten on tables and the floor, various knickknacks on every surface and paintings hanging on the wall. The first time I'd come in I didn't stay long enough to get a good look, this time would be no different as I had things left to do and the last thing I needed was to confront him even if my sister insisted that I do. Turning towards the door I took but one step before the door opened and he was standing in the doorway, always one for having perfect bloody timing.

"Ms. Irvine."

"Mr. Holmes." I responded. With that I continued towards the exit, looking for a way around him when he once more grabbed my wrist, turned me around and had me pinned to the door. I found myself at a loss of words, caught between opening the door and throwing my arms around him making the first move like my sister had told me to do. He watched my with his ever searching eyes, moving from my eyes then to my lips, and once again slowly he leaned in. My heart raced in my chest, beating loudly in my ears and instead of waiting to see if this moment would be ruined once more, I grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards me locking his lips with mine. The kiss was gentle yet filled with pent up passion, and slowly Sherlock's hands found my hips, pulling our bodies closer, his mouth moving over mine. I pulled away, breathless and afraid, I had just did the move unladylike thing and kiss him just like Charlotte had said. "I-I shouldn't have..." I said, trying to catch my breath but instead of letting me complete that sentence he leaned in again.

This kiss was different, hungrier, passionate as if he was trying to tell me that I wasn't the only one who wanted this. I returned it with my own pulling his body closer to my own, wanting, needing his touch, while one of his hands moved up my spine over my shoulders resting on the back of my neck and the other resting in the arch of my back. Teeth tugged at my bottom lip, a silent plea for entry and I obliged parting my lips and allowing him to explore. His tongue danced with my own, hands moved to the front of my dress, playing with the buttons and he managed to get the first two undone when a knock on the door broke us apart. Breathless and a little dizzy we didn't move, his forehead pressed against my own we remained silent hoping the person would walk away.

"Couldn't you just tell them to leave?" I questioned, my voice no louder than a whisper. When they knocked again, those hopes faded away and the buttons of my dress were redone as he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

"I suppose we could make them wait a moment longer." He replied voice just as hushed as my own, I hummed a response pressing gentle, teasing kisses to his neck. "You madam are a dangerous woman." I giggle.

"Interesting, tell me detective what happens to dangerous women?" I ponder, moving up his neck to his ear, then another knock. Sighing he pulled away, his thumb tracing my lower lip, regret in his eyes and I understood that he couldn't keep the visitor waiting any longer.

"Sadly that will have to wait." With one last kiss he stepped away, "For now I must bid you adieu my dear." Stepping to the side I remained out of sight as he walked through the door, and after a few moments I followed shutting the door behind me. I spent the rest of the day cleaning, and not one word was spoken of the moment I'd had. It was my first kiss, and with him I was absolutely certain it would not be the last.


	10. Return Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I don't know Gaelic so if there are things wrong with the way they are written I'm sorry, I basically looked for what I was looking for online and copied and pasted it. Again thank you all for the Kudos and Comments, they really keep this story going. I'm also trying my hardest to keep Sherlock in character, which is hard to do because of his lack of emotions and his stoic personality. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter and I hope to have the next one up later today!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

  
Whitechapel, the place where I was born and raised for the first 9 years of my life, has become almost unrecognizable since I'd left 20 years ago. The sick and dying lay out in the streets, on every corner a woman selling her body waited for a man to take her away and children ran wild pickpocketing those who'd come from the other districts, all the while the smoke and ash from the factories left a permanent smog over the district. Having been away for so long, it no longer felt like home, even as familiar faces passed by, I'd become to accustom to life in Westminster the life I'd know here had become foreign. When I brought up my mother's failing health one afternoon, I had been given time to return and care for her in her final days. Yet I wasn't alone in my journey, for some reason Sherlock had come along. He didn't give a reason, instead he'd shown up at the train station just before the train arrived and took a seat across from me. I'd made it clear from the moment the train left the station that I didn't need an escort, I was perfectly fine on my own in London's worst district, yet he insisted he had his own reasons of coming that had nothing to do with my own trip. A lie I suspected, but I held my tongue enjoying the company.

The first stop we made before returning to the slums I'd grown up in was to pay my respect to my father. Even then he followed behind me, hands clasped behind his back stopping to wait at the entrance to the cemetery, while I finished my business. My father had been buried with others in a Pauper's grave, and if I hadn't asked I probably would have never found the spot. A kind and loving man, he was not without faults. He was a gambling man, wasting almost all our wages on races or card games asking for money when he'd run out. They said the cause of death was an accident, but I knew better than that, he was a lower class working man, found dead not but a mile away with a bullet in his head. For an hour I stood there, telling him everything that had happened over the years before whispering a quiet farewell, leaving a rose over his final resting place. When I exited the cemetery and arm was held out for me, which I took without question before heading down the street to the slums I'd grown up in.

"I thought you had other business here." I commented as we walked, keeping my eyes ahead of me watching those I'd known years ago beg for money. Stopping for a moment I reached into my handbag and pulled out a few pounds that I'd saved away, setting them into the cup of a begging child before taking Sherlock's arm once more. Pulling a letter from his pocket was all the proof I'd needed to know he had business to attend to, taking the nicely folded letter, "Mrs. Callaway's daughter has gone missing..."

"Gone to America with her betrothed." He replied, having already solved the case in his head, which only further my suspensions that he'd come along to accompany me. I gave him back his letter and rolled my eyes, he could have just told me he wanted to join me and I would happily say that I'd enjoy the company, then again that wasn't how he was. 

"And instead of writing her about your discovery, you prefer meeting face to face." I said, trying hard to mask my smile. That was something I wished to see, but the reason for this trip meant I'd have little time to indulge in anything other than making sure my mother was comfortable. "Now that would be entertaining, sadly while you tend to a worried mother I will be tending to a sick one." That got a chuckle out of him meaning I hit his funny bone, not something easily done.

"Are you insinuating that I am incapable of tending to a broken hearted woman who is worried sick about her missing child?" He questioned, and I smile shrugging my shoulders. I simply worked in the building, I'd seen him when he left on a case and when he returned, though nothing more.

"I am assuming that you'd much rather let someone else break news to families rather than be the one doing it." He nodded his head, the corner of his lips raising up hinting that behind that mask, he was smiling. "If her daughter has gone to America, why hasn't she sent word home? It's not like she's bringing dishonor upon the family name by marrying a man in the same social class." I pondered, thinking hard for a reason the young woman might have left. "Unless her mother was against the arrangement, so they left to wed without her knowing."

"Would it help to know that the man in question was linked to one of the many gangs living in London?"

"He pissed off the wrong person, now there's a price on his head so they left for America." He nodded his head. "And you came up with that by reading the letter."

"And the paper."

"And the paper." I said with a nod of my head. "Has there ever been a case you couldn't solve?" I questioned. He went silent for a moment, thinking back to all the case's he'd taken on before shaking his head. "Of course..." I started to say before the words died on my tongue. We'd managed to make it to the building in which I had been born and raised, and my grip of his arm tightened as memories came flooding back. The years my siblings and I would beg for money, the days spent playing in the streets with the other children, all that the good times as well as the bad hit me in the chest. As tears flowed down my cheeks his thumb was there to catch them, wiping them away as we entered the building and into the room my mother was in.

"Is that you my Nighean?" A old raspy voice called from the single bedroom. Releasing Sherlock's arm I moved swiftly though the small room to where she lay, tears falling from my eyes as she reached out a hand towards me. "Tha mi gur ionndrainn."

"I have missed you to mama." I stated, kneeling beside her bed yet making no contact, the last thing I wanted was to end up in the same situation. When I looked to the other room I found myself surprised when he entered the small home, hands tucked into his pockets and looking around. I smiled, my heart racing in my chest thinking that he'd leave the moment we arrived, and yet he stayed. For the next few days he rarely left my side, even accompanying me to the pharmacy and back. When I would cry, he was there to capture the tears either with his lips or his thumb, something I'd never expected from the stoic man like him. And I would not lie, but this kind and gentle side of him was exactly what I needed.


	11. The Parting Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Mother died on a Wednesday afternoon, after only a few days into my visit, and I wasn't there. I'd gone to the pharmacy for her medication, and like clockwork Sherlock had risen from his seat in the main room, when she requested him to stay and talk. I objected, the last thing I needed was for her to tell him stories of my youth, but he insisted and with no energy to argue I left while he stayed behind. Upon my return home I knew something was wrong, for he was standing outside smoking his pipe and when I asked what they talked about he remained silent, refusing to meet my gaze yet I could see the great sadness in his eyes. I entered the building just as her body was being lifted from her bed, my heart sank as I moved forward tears ready to fall. The bottles of medication I'd bought dropped to the floor as I approached the room, ready to fight my way towards her when arms wrapped around my waist holding me back, keeping me away as they wrapped her up in her sheets to carry her away. I fought against him, tears flowing freely down my cheeks as the crossed the small bedroom, into the main room and out the door. There are many traditions the scots upkept upon death, from a proper Scottish send off which none in my family could afford, to the feasts held to celebrate the deceased lives. Yet with family scattered across this great country, I fear the idea of all of the siblings coming together would not happen. There was only one custom I could preform in this time of sadness and lose, and when I stopped fighting the man holding me and his grip loosened I moved from room to room, opening the windows and letting in the bitter cold of the autumn winds and letting the her spirit free. 

There were no words speaking in the days that followed my mother's passing. At her funeral I whispered my farewell and placed a hand to her beast, lest her spirit haunt me, all the while brown eyes watched me from a distance. On the way to the train station he never approached, when we took our seats he sat across from me without a word, in that silence I knew what he'd been thinking and there were no words that could be said to ease a grieving heart and it simply wasn't who he was. I understood that, I never complained for I cared to deeply for the man he was and I didn't want him to change, but I am a woman with a broken heart who yearn for affection. The train pulled from the station at a quarter after 12, leaving Whitechapel behind on its way back to Westminster and as I watched the district I'd been raised in disappear I said goodbye to my younger self, for that would be the last time I returned home. About an hour into our trip Sherlock had risen from his seat, yet I paid no attention but when he set a letting down on my lap and left the cabin, I pulled my eyes away from the landscape outside to the envelop addressed to me. I hesitated for a moment before ripping the envelop open, pulling the last letter I'd receive from my mother reading her final words of wisdom she'd left me with.

_'My darling Nighean,_

_In this difficult time it has become harder and harder to write, therefore I've commandeered your friend to write my final words to you. Though this time will be filled with hardship I know that you'll pull through, you have Scottish blood running though your system, even if you don't yet realize it now. My beautiful Erika, you have so much more life ahead of you, my last hope is that one day you discover your calling and find someone to share the light that you radiate with. In your bag is what I have left, money to share with your siblings as well as my sketchbook that you shall fill with your art. Tha gaol agam ort, and never forget that even in our darkest of times there is light and happiness. Goodnight and joy be with you my sweet Nighean._

_Your love màthair, Aileana Irvine.'_

Setting the letter down, I let myself cry, tears falling from my eyes as sobs left my lips. I didn't hear the door to the cabin open nor did I notice someone walk in, yet when a handkerchief was offered to wipe my tears I took it with a quiet "Thank you." It wasn't until the train passed through a tunnel when I got my reply, though it wasn't what I was expecting, instead it was the voice of a man that I'd wished to forget.

"A shame to hear of your mother's death." Holding the handkerchief to my face, I didn't move when I heard his voice. It had been so long since the time in the park that I will admit that I'd nearly forgotten it, and I'd hope that he'd forgotten me, yet here he was sitting across from me, if it hadn't been for the lights in the cabin I wouldn't had seen him. Cold emotionless eyes watched me, burning though my skin and sparking fear within me. "You must have known that this was inevitable, yet still you returned to the place you were born to care for her." I didn't care where he'd come from, though my curiosity begged for me to ask I bit my tongue and listened in silent fear, when he finished speaking I only asked a simply question.

"What do you want from me?" Silence was my answer, though he remained seated writing in the same Red notebook he had from before, months ago. When he finally did speak he didn't look towards me, not a glance was given my way yet his tone still sparked fear.

"To warn you Ms. Irvine." He said, tone cold and uncaring. "If you should continue to crawl through the rabbit hole, you will be only met with sadness and grief." He stood up once more, taking the door handle in hand he turned once to look down upon me. "My condolences to your mother." With that he was gone, and the train had left the darkness of the tunnel. When the door opened again I thought he'd come back to threaten me more, yet Sherlock had returned. I don't know if it was the fear or perhaps the grief, but the moment the door shut I rose from my seat and crossed the small train cabin. I rose on my toes and pressed my lips to his, and within seconds his hands rested on my hips pulling me into him. The letter and handkerchief left forgotten on the seat as I, in a moment of need for affection and love, let myself sink into a pool of passion with the impossible man that had stolen my heart. 


	12. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Secrets, everyone has them, some more than others, but alas there are details in life that everyone wants to keep out of public knowledge. I have many secrets that I'd never told anyone, and what transpired on the train while returning to Westminster is one of the things that I will take with me to the grave. I am not ashamed of what happened, not in the slightest, but personal matters like what went on in the small cabin are special moments that I will keep it to myself, even when pressed for answers about the activity that had taken place. When we finally returned to the lodgings my Aunt had owned, she met us at the door and pulled me to her, arms wrapped tightly around my body as if I'd gone missing and had just been found. The warm embrace was welcoming, as she whispered her condolences while tears fell from her eyes over the loss of her younger sister. After all that had her family had gone through, the disappointment my mother had been for marrying a commoner and the disowned for her dishonor on her family name, she was still the younger sister of the gentle and kind woman, and I understood the feeling of great loss by her passing. With a gentle hand pressed to my cheek, she headed back inside and I turned to retrieve my bags to find them missing from where they'd been set, then it dawned that Sherlock had taken them and headed back inside, giving me a moment with my Aunt.

When I entered the building a sense of calm rushed through my body, for I had truly return home. Yes, that explained why Whitechapel had become foreign to me, not because of how accustomed I'd become to living in the district of the rich and privilege, but because I'd found my true home. Though this is a place I worked as well as slept, it had left a last impression in the last few months more so than the slums had in the 9 years I lived there. One could say it's because it is the residence of the man who firmly held my heart within his hands, and perhaps they'd be right he did factor into my reasons for calling this home, but along with that I'd felt secure in a place without the fear of ending up on the streets, no eviction notices when a new building is set to replace the building and no fear that at any moment a man would sneak into your bed and have his way with you.

Though perhaps I would leave my door unlock some nights, incase he decided to sneak into my bed, I would not object and if he had a bed perhaps I would do just that myself but the man who lived on substances rarely, if ever, slept and if he did it was on the floor. Having slept on the floor on a thin mattress in the room my parents shared, surrounded by 5 siblings I knew that was little to no comfort laying on hard rotting boards, but it wasn't my place to tell him where he could or could not sleep, I was only the maid that cleaned rooms in the building he rented a room from yet I was also the woman who'd had a private and intimate moment with him aboard a train bound for the district of the rich.

The moment I made it to my room the first thing I wanted to do was lay out on my bed and sleep, yet there was my bags that needed unpacking and dinner to prepare for the other tenants in the house to be started, that my hopes of sleeping into the next millennia perished. Opening my bag I hung my dresses, and put away my undergarments back into their drawers, before picking up my mothers own sketchbook that had indeed been placed neatly as she had said. Sitting down I began to flip through the worn pages, smiling at the memories of a time long past. Drawings of my siblings and father littered the pages, as well as depictions of the poverty we'd faced, yet instead of the darkness and sadness that was the slums there was a feelings of peace and happiness in the dark lines and shadows drawn in charcoal she'd taken from the fireplace.

When I'd made it to the final pages I closed the book, setting it on the dresser beside my own before rising from the bed, closing my bag and tucking it under my bed before I made my way into the kitchen to help with dinner. That's what would have happened if I hadn't been blocked by a man in my doorway, hand lifted as if to knock, I'd thought for a moment that he'd come for another private moment much like that from the train, and I wouldn't lie that I'd hope that would be the case.

"The Royale, Eight o'clock tomorrow." He stated quickly and not a request, not that it needed to be a question, I would have agreed either way. I nodded my head and in a quick moment his lips brushed mine before he'd gone back up to his room while I went on to business helping with dinner. As I chopped onions for the minced beef my mind began to wander, mostly to the intimate moment aboard the train yet the threats of that man plagued my mind, and I would not lie I did fear for what might come if I did indeed continue down the rabbit hole after the white rabbit, what fate might become of me at the end of my journey. For now I wouldn't pay it any mind, for now I'd been safe, at least that's what I told myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little shorter than the others, its meant to be that way because the next has a lot going on. It'll be posted sometime tomorrow, for now please enjoy.


	13. Devilish Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

There have been many awkward moments in my life, one that came to mind would be the moment I walked in on Mr. and Mrs. Jones during a moment of intimacy, however the situation I now found myself in might just top that. When I was invited to dinner I had thought that it would be just myself and Sherlock, yet when he brought up the fact that Doctor Watson and his wife would be joining us, last minute mind you, I thought nothing of it. I'd heard many stories about Mary Watson, and I'd pictured an old witch based on what I'd been told my Sherlock, yet instead sitting across me was a beautiful woman with a auburn locks and green eyes, she could easily turn any man's head if she weren't already spoken for. For a moment things were fine, she told me about her profession and I told her mine, but after that things went silent. The tension between Sherlock and Mrs. Watson was an electrical current, the animosity caused the awkwardness and as we arrived at our destination I took a deep breath to prepare myself that would most certainly be a war between them. The restaurant was crowded, people talked in hushed voices and all the while as we walked to where we'd been seated I could feel my heart racing. There are many things in this world I feared, but aside from the obvious, my biggest fear was tight spaces. A fear I'd had from a young age, when my younger brother had forced me into the pantry, locking the door behind me. When my grip on Sherlock's arm, he glanced down to me and his normally emotionless brown eyes filled with worry.

"I'm not a fan of tight spaces." I stated in a rushed tone, giving him a pat on his hand to reassure that I'd eventually be alright, though the longer it took us to make it to the table the faster my heart would race. Drawing my attention away from the people, I glanced up to Sherlock, watching him look around with his searching eyes and for once I let my curiosity get the best of me. "What do you see?" I questioned, which caught his attention, because those same searching eyes looked down to me.

"Everything. That is my curse." He replied in a stoic tone, yet when I looked away he hadn't. Instead his eyes seemed locked on me, searching and at the same time admiring. I had worn the same dress that I had at the Gallery, fitting in almost perfectly with those who sat at their tables and talked in hushed voices. Before I knew it, I too found myself looking around in order to distract myself from the fact I had little room to move. Woman dressed in their fanciest evening wear, men dressed in their best suits, all looking the exactly the same, except for one man in the furthest corner of the room sitting alone. Had we not made it to the table, I might have gazed at the man longer wondering where I had seen him before, but alas we had made it out of the crowd, and seated at a table away from the hustle of people. Wine was poured and orders were taken, then there was silence. That same awkward silence that had accompanied us in the carriage, along with that came the tension yet it was stronger now that you could metaphorically, you would be able to cut it with a knife. Not one to enjoy the silence I turned my attention to the other woman in the room, hoping to spark conversation between our group but if that failed then at least I would get to know her better.

"Mrs. Watson..." I started to say before she allowed me to call her by her first name, I smiled and nodded my head. "Mary, tell me about the boy you were Governess for again. Charlie was it?" She nodded her head, soon she was chattering away about her former position before her marriage, and for a time she had my undivided attention until it was taken away when a hand slowly slid up the length of my thigh. How his hand managed to find his way up the skirt of my dress without me realizing I did not know, and part of me wanted to push him away yet I did not. Instead I tried to make it appear as if I was listening to Mary go on about her pupil, all the while keeping myself as still as possible while he explored. His face showed no sign of his activities below the tablecloth, and he somehow made it appear as if he to was intrigued by what she was saying, perhaps to the naked eye he could fool anyone but to me I saw the expression of pure enjoyment for the havoc he was creating. The further his hand rose, the more difficult it become to keep myself presentable and then he'd found his destination the most delicate spot for a woman. I must have made a noise or moved, because Mary had stopped with what she'd been saying and looked at me with concern, which then followed by the other men turning their eyes towards me.

And that devil of a man, that sly man who could easily hide his emotions had the gall to ask, "Are you alright Ms. Irvine?" I could have slapped him, to scream at him and expose exactly what he'd been doing. But words died on my tongue, and then his hand found its way under the other article of clothing left to conceal my modesty, dragging a finger across my womanhood. He was enjoying this, I could see it plain as day and it astonished me that no one else at the table could pick up on this. _Concentrate Erika, focus_.

"I am just fine Mr. Holmes, just a little tired from today's w-work." I said as well as I could, and the other two bought it. Then as if by some miracle our meals arrive, and his hand had slid away. Not that I didn't enjoy the moment, I feared that any moment longer and I would have made an unladylike noise that would tell the entire restaurant what he was doing. For the rest of the dinner it was silent, we ate our food, drank wine and as soon as the evening had began it was over. We were on our way home, and after dropping off Doctor Watson and his wife we were bound for Baker Street. I glared at him the entire trip, and once alone he simply chuckled, causing me to smile. "You are a devil of a man Sherlock Holmes."

"And you a temptress Erika Irvine." He responded. When we arrived home, he offer his hand to me helping me off the carriage. If Aunt Martha hadn't been home I might have went to his room or brought him to mine, yet instead he pressed his lips to my hand before disappearing up the stairs. I watched him go, then turned my head to the my Aunt who stood in the doorway between the hall and parlor shaking her head as if disappointed in my choice of man. Of course she could only watch from a distance, given my age I could choose who to court and who courted me. Passing by her I headed for my room, taking a candle with me as I whispered goodnight before shutting my door.

Setting the candle down on my dresser, I glanced in the mirror to find the man from the restaurant sitting on my bed. I turned, ready to run for the door when another caught me in his arms, and before I had time to scream a wet cloth was pressed to my face. Fighting to be free I screamed as loud as I could, yet my body was slowly giving up and the room began to spin, darkness consumed me. The last thing I saw was the man from before rise from my bed, whispering the same warning Moriarty had said the day before. I'd fallen down the rabbit hole, and my pain and suffering was only just beginning.


	14. Unexpected Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Darkness was the first thing I saw when I awoke, and for a moment I believed, no hoped, that I had died, for death was a luxury I happily take at the moment, if that meant that I'd finally find peace rather than have to submit to torment at the hands of German's who took pleasure of ripping the skin of my back to shreds with whips. Stripped to nothing my chemise and sitting in a puddle of my own tears and blood, with my wrists chained above my head Erika hoped the by some miracle I'd be saved from this torment. Yet as the day had come and gone, that hope dwindled, instead a hope for death had taken over as that seemed more and more likely as the hours ticked by. That didn't stop me from looking up every time someone walked in, though it was normally my German tormentors return, this time as footsteps approached I didn't have the strength to watch them approach. Instead I kept my eyes on floor and watching the shadow of a man stop in front of me. A hand reached out to brush my golden locks from my face before it cupped my chin and forced my head up, and just for a split second I thought that my hopes had come true and that the mad detective had found me.

"Look at you Eri, if you would have listened none of this would have happened to you." The man said, shooting down my hopes in an instant. Moonlight leaked in through the windows, lighting the room ever so slightly, giving me a chance to see who it was that had entered the room. Time stopped when their eyes met, and that hope turned to sorrow when I found myself looking into the eyes of my younger brother. "Surprised? I'm sure you are, the last time we saw each other you were going to school while I was went to work with father at the factories." He said pulling his hand away from my chin.

"Jamie..." I whispered, my voice hoarse and sore from the screams and tears while the whips tore my back to shreds. "What..."

"Am I doing here? That's a good question." He said with a chuckle, sitting himself on the floor a grin on his face. "You see father was in debt with some bad people, so when he died the debt was put on mother. When she couldn't pay, I was taken away and sent to the workhouse. After years of gruel and unfair working conditions I was taken in by a intelligent man who offered to clear the debts father left behind in exchange I would work for him."

"Moriarty." He grinned and nodded his head.

"Clever girl, its no wonder Sherlock Holmes has taken a liking to you." He responded while his head tilted to the side, his smile soon fading. "Though its a shame you've taken a liking to him as well, would have saved you a world of pain if you had just listened to the warnings." He said, nodding his head to another man in the room who pulled on the chains, pulling me from my seat back into the air. Jamie rose as well, taking my chin in hand again, forcing their eyes meet again.

"Why?"

"Why?!" Jamie shouted as he took a step back, chuckling as he stepped away and nodded to another. He waited patiently for the snap of the whip against my flesh, followed by my earsplitting scream before giving an answer. "You make it seem like you were forced to leave, but you couldn't wait to get out of the slums! You weren't there when father was left for dead, you weren't there when mother was selling her body to make money to pay off debts. The only time you went home was when she was on her deathbed, and even then you weren't there when she took her last breath. You're so privileged, you didn't have to suffer the punishment and cruelty of working at the workhouses."

"Wrong." I responded. He approached again, gripping my chin in his hand forcing their eyes to meet. "You're wrong Jamie...I'm no more privileged that any other woman in my position, I work for lousy wages that would barely be enough to feed a family for a week. I never returned home because I was working, saving up money so that she wouldn't need to worry about our father's debts, then I was let go." I paused to take a breath, tears falling from my eyes. "I wasn't there when she finally passed because I was out getting medicine for her, and I will regret that for the rest of my life."

"You're lying!" He shouted again, nodding once more and waited again for my screams of pain to die. I coughed a laugh, using what was left of my strength to shake my head and keep eye contact with him.

"I'm sorry you've suffered Jamie, if I could go back and change the way things are I would. But Moriarty is using you to do his dirty work, the moment you mess up he'll have you killed." I responded, my muscles spasming as my strength slowly depleted. "You're a smart man Bràthair, surely you see that at any moment you'll end up just another corpse being laid to rest in a mass grave." The crack of the whip to my already blooded back was all it took to silence me, as my head fell forward he nodded and the chains were released, dropping me to the ground. He stepped forward, pushing my hair from my face, watching to make sure I was still breathing.

"Holen sie sich die Box." He ordered, waiting until the other man had done as he asked before kneeling down beside his older sister. "Take a deep breath Piuthar when you wake I'd say you have little less than an hour of air." Were the final word my brother said as I was lifted into me makeshift coffin. The last thing I heard were the sound of guns firing, before my eyes closed and darkness consumed me once more. 


	15. Fifteen Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter changes perspective towards the end, needed to address what happened between the last 2 and then the rescue. Please be kind in the comments and enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

He knew something was wrong when he got up in the morning only to find himself alone. Sherlock assumed she'd end up with him during the night after his activities at the restaurant, yet when she didn't he figured she'd gone to bed. Then when morning came he expected to find her cleaning in the parlor, like she normally did every single day, yet she wasn't and at first he assumed that she had gone about the errands but as the day dragged on his worries only heightened. He would have spent the day moping if he hadn't been called away to investigate a murder in a warehouse in Lambeth, even while sitting in the carriage he moped as he watched the world pass by out the window.

"Are you going to mope the entire day?" He heard Watson ask, and instead of answering he simply shifted in his seat, his thoughts elsewhere. When the carriage came to a stop and door opened, he took in their surroundings before making following behind the Doctor into the warehouse. Three bodies laid where they died, two were very much dead while the other, who was surrounded by officers, was indeed alive. Watson stepped away to tend to the younger man who was on the verge of death, and he made a move to follow but stopped when something caught his eye. "It's alright I'm a Doctor." Watson assured the young man, who grinned while his wounds were looked over.

"I know who you are Doctor Watson, and you wasting your time, I'll be dead before I reach hospital." He said, taking a deep breath in when his clothing was pulled away from the wound. "You knew that already, but its the healer inside you that wants to find a way to save me."

"Do you have a name?" Watson asked and before the younger man could answer, Sherlock did.

"Jamie Irvine, third child and only son born to Aileana and David Irvine. Sent to the workhouse at the age of 13, and eventually employed by the single most intelligent criminal in the world."

"Just as intelligent as they say, not that I'm surprised." Jamie grinned before hissing in pain as the bullet was removed from the wound in his shoulder. "He offered to pay off my father's debts in exchange I work for him. Fair deal I thought." He explained. "When I heard she'd started working with our Aunt in the same building you reside I thought it was the perfect opportunity to finally seek revenge, so I kidnapped her. Thought that if I drew you out, maybe I could get rid of the only thing standing in the Professors way, looks like I've miscalculated. She was right after all." He sighed, closing his eyes as death slowly consumed him.

"Stay with me." Watson ordered, trying to keep the young man alive as he closed the wound. Jamie looked to Sherlock, a sad smile on his face and instantly the detective knew. The younger man took a shallow breath turning his gaze to the pool of blood across the room. Two sets of eyes followed, and even though Sherlock's face showed no sign of emotion, anger and grief boiled inside him.

"I wanted her to suffer, to feel the pain and torment I was put through for years. Turns out she'd been sending her wages home in hopes to settle the debts my father had created due to his addiction, and all these years I hated her believing that she abandoned our family for a better life." Reaching up Jamie stopped the Watson's hand, the end would soon be upon him. "If you hurry you'll find her at Lambeth Cemetery, buried 24 meters from the church. I'd say she's got at least another fifteen minutes of air, if she hasn't already used what little air supply she has while panicking." That was all Sherlock needed to hear, before he was off leaving the warehouse behind as the clock ticked in his head, fifteen minutes to reach the golden haired beauty and counting.

* * *

Darkness was the first thing I noticed when I awoke. Darkness and the faint smell of dirt and wood, which soon was followed by excruciating pain whenever I moved. My eyes searched for any sign of light so I could see where I was, and the moment I reached out my heart stopped. Reaching to the other side confirmed my worst fears, I was no longer in the warehouse I'd been kept for a day, tortured and laying in a mess of my own tears and blood, I was locked away in a coffin 1 metre below the ground.

I'd spent an hour screaming and pounding on the lid of the coffin, hoping that someone would find me, yet when no rescue came I simply closed my eyes and waited for death. I saw his face behind my closed lids, felt the touch his hands along my body, his lips caressing every inch of my skin, Sherlock would be my final thought as I drifted into an internal slumber. Opening my eyes I gave into the darkness and waited, seeing the light at the end of a tunnel I thought I'd seen the hand of god, and I reached for it. Only it wasn't the hand of the almighty that had lifted me from my tomb but the hand of the man who'd finally found me. He was covered from head to toe in dirt, and very much out of breath. I threw my arms around him, tears falling from my eyes as he lifted me the rest of the way out of the hole.

"She needs a Doctor." I heard and as I turned my head I found that he wasn't alone in my rescue, and the Doctor had accompanied him. "Holmes."

"Right." Sherlock replied wrapping me in his jacket before rising from the ground with me in his arms, making his way towards the carriage destined for the hospital. For a moment there was silence as I struggled to keep my eyes open, as I wondered how he'd managed to find me then it dawned on me.

"Jamie..." I crocked out, my voice hoarse and sore from the many hours of screaming in pain and terror. Sherlock nodded, before hushing to keep me quiet. "Where?"

"It doesn't matter now, if not for him we wouldn't have found you, that's all you need to know." He replied, and I knew what it meant. My younger brother was gone, having given them my location with his final breathes. Tears fell from my eyes as I rested my head against the chest of my savior, and like clockwork, lips pressed to the top of my head. I let my eyes close as I leaned into the body holding me, letting myself rest at ease after the torment I'd endured. "You're safe." Were the last words I heard as I drifted off to sleep, knowing this time when I awoke I'd be home once more.


	16. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is the shortest of all of them, not much I can do with an injured character. In reality it's only a few words off 1000 which is where I tend to keep chapter lengths. Please do enjoy and don't forget to comment and let me know what you all thing, feedback keeps the story going and keeps me inspired.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Never in my entire life had I ever experienced pain such as this, not that I've lived much of a life at all I am only 29 years old, but that's beside the point. No amount of morphine would take the pain away as the good Doctor replaced the bandages over what remained of my back, and for once I was actually thankful that I lived with an addict for he seemed to have an endless supply of cocaine and morphine at his disposal. I'd only been home for a week after I'd spent two weeks in hospital, and since I'd been home I'd battled with a fever, survived an infection and have been stuck upstairs on a makeshift bed under constant supervision. Doctor Watson would visit every few days to check on me, yet most of my care was left in the hands of Sherlock who took no pleasure in removing the bandages and when the pain became to much I was given another dose of the miracle drugs that either had me numb enough to feel nothing or fast asleep.

One afternoon I could hear them talking in the other room, though they'd tried to keep their voices low, I heard every word. When the conversation turned to Moriarty there was silence, before he stated that he'd given up the chase. Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective in all of England, was giving up. Rising from the bed, I stumbled my way into the other room using every piece of furniture I could get my hands on to keep myself balanced. Two sets of eyes were on me the moment I entered the room, yet my attention was solely on him as I used the wall to keep myself from falling over.

"The worlds most formidable criminal is killing innocent people in order to create terror and war, and because of what happened with me, you're going to give up?" I questioned, completely out of breath as sweat slowly dripped down my back, burning the wounds that covered my back. "Now that's something I thought I'd never hear, Sherlock Holmes gives up foiling his arch nemesis plans all because of a woman." I laughed shaking my head, causing the world to spin out from under my feet. Collapsing to the ground had both men up from where they sat, yet it was the Doctor that was at my side first ready to tend to his latest patient.

"Lets get you back to bed, you're putting to much strain on yourself." He said ready to help me back to my feet as I pushed him away. My eyes locked on the man I'd grown to love and admire, searching his eyes for any sign of emotion, and I was shocked to find guilt and sadness hidden away. 

"We all make our choices, I choose to follow my heart and ignore the threats he'd made fully prepared for what fate came with falling in love with you." I stopped to take a deep breath before continuing with my thought. "But the people who are dying because of Moriarty's greed for power, they don't, they're gunned down or blown to bits because they get in his way. If you give up you're acting just as selfishly as he is, and you're Sherlock Holmes for fucks sake. You fight for those who can't fight for themselves and bring people to justice."

He didn't say a word, yet his gaze fell away from me as the Watson helped me to my feet. Leading me back to my room and ordering me to lie down while he went to work removing the now blood soaked bandages to stitch the wounds that had broken open, and when he went to replace them he stopped and Sherlock entered to take over. Slowly he placed medicine soaked gauze over the wounds in silence, stopping whenever I flinched away from his hand and waited handing me a glass that was filled with water and diluted morphine in hopes that it would med the pain. When he finished I expected him to leave, yet he sat on the edge of the bed and his dark eyes locked onto me and when I turned to meet his gaze I reached up grabbing his collar and pulling him down to me, our lips barely brushing when he spoke.

"Has anyone ever told you how incredibly frustrating you can be?" He asked before his lips met mine. I snickered against his lips, letting my eyes close and enjoy the brief moment. When he pulled away he sighed, his forehead resting against my own. "You're right." He muttered out, and the world seemed to stop. Did he just say that I was right? 

"Are you feeling alright? Because I swear I just heard you say that I'm right." He chuckled as he pulled away sitting up right. 

"Don't make me say it again." He stated. "I give you my word that we will stop him." Was all he said, before he leaned down and his lips met my forehead. "Now if you get up from the bed again and pull something like that, I will handcuff you to the bed."

"Naked?"

"Don't tempt me woman." Another kiss followed before he rose from the bed and headed towards the door, leaving me to rest. The morphine finally beginning to work, as the world faded from around me, the pain numb and my body relaxed. It would only be a moment before I fell back to sleep, yet I continued to listen to the men in the other room as darkness swept over me. The last words I'd heard before I slipped into my dreams were that of the Doctor asking a question before Sherlock replied with, "Yes I believe I do."


	17. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter actually got me to tear up. I've been meaning to do a moment with Erika and Ms. Hudson for a while, and finally got around to it. This chapter takes place a month after the last, and I'm adding in the end of Game of Shadows to it. So when Sherlock "dies" Erika knows the truth and is there to fish him out of the water after the fall.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

The first time I got a good look at the state of my back, I'd managed to get out of bed while they were gone, and to say that there weren't tears would be a lie. Red, irritated and puffy scars littered the entirety of my back, stitches held some of my skin together the moment my eyes saw it I had to turn and look away. In the doorway my Aunt stood, being the one to take care of me while Sherlock and the Doctor were out, and even she couldn't stand to see the scars left by the hands of the German who took orders from my younger brother. When she did look she would make a disagreeable noise as tears filled her eyes, then she'd wrap gauze around my body and help me change clothes. It'd been three weeks since I'd been home, and I was getting sick of this room so against Aunt Martha's wishes, I spent the day outside with my sketchpad resting on my lap and a coat wrapped around me to protect my modest from any wandering eyes, not that there were any out in the back courtyard, but it helped keep the cold air of the Winter winds from freezing me.

In my hands were the pictures my mother had left me with, and as I flipped through the drawings I found myself stopping on Jamie, the sweet little boy who knew how to make others laugh and loved to prank each of my other siblings. Taking the edge of the drawing in my hands, I tore the paper and let the winter winds take the shreds from my hands, watching the drawing dance as the door opened behind me and Aunt Martha stepped out setting a tray of tea and biscuits between us as she sat down. Looking up beside me she smiled sadly, placing a hand over my own, yet she remained silent as I hummed the song my mother would sing to put us to sleep.

"On the bonnie, bonnie banks o'Loch Lomon'." She sang once the shreds of the of my mother's drawing were out of sight, carried off to the heavens on the brisk winter winds. "You're mother used to love that song when we were young." She said, taking one of the glasses of tea and raised it to her lips, sipping from the warm liquid inside. I smiled sadly, picturing her singing the song in the candle light while Charlotte, Jamie and I doze into slumber, tears rolling down my cheeks as I lifted my own glass to my lips and let the tea warm my bones. "Whenever it rained your Grandmother would wrap us up in or blankets and spend hours singing us songs she'd knew from Scotland. Every time Aileana would tell her 'Sing Loch Lomond Màthair'." She said with a slight laugh at the memory, causing me to laugh as well.

"What were they like? My Grandparents." I asked, setting my glass back down, keeping my eyes to the sky as I tucked the remaining drawings into my sketchbook.

"Stubborn as Highland Cattle, yet they loved Aileana and I more than anything. We weren't a wealthy family, yet due to the cattle and crops we weren't poor either. A traditional Scottish family, Aileana and I were promised to men, rich men, yet instead of following the wishes of our father she followed her heart, marrying a worker on our farm, which broke their hearts. When she left for London, that would be the first and last time I'd see my father shed tears." Aunt Martha explained, raising the glass to her lips again a sad smile on her face. Silence set in again as she wiped tears from her eyes, her grip on my hand tightening. "Despite the fact they disowned her, my mother's last words were for me to watch over Aileana. So when I heard one of her children was in need of work, I didn't hesitate to hire you."

"And I can't express how much I appreciate what you've done for me Aunt Martha." I told her as I rested my cheek to her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her in a side embrace. With a soft and affectionate kiss to the top of my head she rested her own cheek against my hair, eyes still on the sky.

"I've known you only a few months of your 29 years, and yet it's as if I've known you your entire life. Which means I worry about you, especially this relationship you have with him." She said and I knew exactly who she was talking about, the emphasis she made that very clear. I chuckled and rolled my eyes yet I remained very still enjoying the moment with a woman who'd become a mother towards me after the passing of my own.

"You don't need to worry Aunt Martha. Like my mother I'd chosen to follow my heart despite the dangers I know that are bound to arise." I said as I pulled the jacket tighter around my body forgetting about the wounds that painted my back. Hissing in pain I let go of the jacket and she rose, taking the tray inside before returning to help me to my feet. We'd made our way back inside and despite the fact my room was closer, I was to return upstairs knowing that if I didn't now I would eventually, yet as we entered the parlor we came face to face with a man who'd entered while we'd been outside.

"I didn't hear anyone enter. Can I help you sir?" Aunt Martha asked.

"Carruthers madam. I've been sent to escort Ms. Irvine to Switzerland." He stated, and for a moment we stood in silence. I opened my mouth to question who had made this plan before I was stopped, "I was only informed to escort you Madam, Mr. Holmes said he'd explain the rest upon our arrival." That answered that, and Aunt Martha argued I was in no way able to travel but I nodded my head, heading towards the stairs to begin packing, helped by my Aunt who continued to complain. Packing away all the clothes I'd need before allowing her to help me dress in proper clothing, she turned me towards her and sadness was evident in her eyes along with worry.

"As I stated Aunt Martha, you don't need to worry. I know the dangers by loving him, and I'm fully prepared to face them." I kissed her cheek, took my bags in hand before starting down the stairs when she stopped me to ask if my feelings towards the Impossible Man were true, and I turned to face her a smile on my face. "Yes, I believe they are."


	18. Switzerland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

When I was younger I'd always dreamt of what it would be like to visit Europe, but due to the fact that I came from a family with very little money it seemed like an impossible feat that would be just a dream. Yet after a long train ride that led to a trip by sea I had finally accomplished my younger self's dreams, though it was short lived and before I even could think of exploring Paris, I was whisked away and back on yet another train heading for Switzerland. The entire trip I had the pleasure of being accompanied by the most quiet escort, and since we'd left Baker Street I found myself either reading or looking out the window. Even Sherlock would talk eventually, but this man, Carruthers, never once said a word. When asked why I was bound for Switzerland, I was told that once we arrived I'd be told everything and since then I never said a word.

Every now and then I would shift in my seat, my back no longer in pain and instead there was a constant itch that I couldn't reach, and if I did manage to find it the pain would return as a reminder to keep my hands away. When the train came to a halt I moved to grab my things yet the hand of my escort beat me to it, taking my bag in hand and heading towards the waiting carriage. At least here I could take in the beauty of the country, from the Alps in the distance to the forest that sat behind us, and even then it was just a quick glance as we moved onto our next and last destination. After an hour I spotted the our destination, a quaint building surrounded by the mountains, in the middle of nowhere. When the horse drawn sleigh came to a halt I was helped from my seat and brought inside where a maid took my coat and bags ready to show me to my room.

"Breakfast is being served upstairs, if you are hungry." She told me as she set my bag down on the bed, curtsied and exited leaving me alone in a foreign building with no idea as to the reason I'd come. After I changing into something more comfortable before making my way up the stairs for something to eat.

"Ah our young guest has arrived." A booming voice said even before I entered the room. Walking into the room I took a look around finding that the only other person was a much older man, reading the news paper. "I do hope your trip was pleasant." The older man setting the paper down and rising from his seat, as all men do when a woman enters the dining room and leaves the table. "I am the other more dashing Holmes." He bowed his head, and I bowed mine in return sitting down when a chair was pulled out for me.

"I know who you are, sir." I stated, reaching for the teapot and a cup before pouring a cup of tea for myself while a plate of food was being prepared for me. "You work for the Government, though what you title is remains a mystery." He hummed in returned returning to his paper while I sipped at my cup of tea, I ate in silence and when I finished I excused myself and with the help of a maid I made it back to my room where I laid down, needing to rest after a long day of traveling. I can't say how long I'd been asleep, but when I awoke I wasn't alone, though I could barely make him out in the darkness. "Surely you know how creepy this is..." I whisper, smiling ever so slightly as I slowly and painfully lifted myself, sitting upright.

Turning my attention towards him my hear sank, bruises and cuts littered his face yet what really caught my attention was his arm. Resting in a makeshift sling I moved from the bed kneeling down in front of him, I didn't ask what happened because I knew he'd never say so instead I placed a kiss to the cut on his cheek as he spoke. "You talk in your sleep." He stated, a fact in which I was already aware as my talking often annoyed the other ladies I worked with.

"I know I'm not here because you missed me." I stated resting back on my knees.

"Perhaps that's exactly why you're here."

"Sherlock..." I said with a faint laugh, looking up to him finding humor and worry in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why I've been brought to the mountains of Switzerland or am I supposed to guess." He chuckled and nodded his head, reaching into his breast pocket for a letter handing it to me. When I opened the letter I read exactly what my purpose was, and a frown slowly crept onto my face but he stopped me from speaking with a finger to my lips.

"Tell no one, you understand." Despite the fact that whatever his plans were, I nodded my head as I folded the letter and tucked it into my dress between my breasts. Rising to my feet I made my way towards the bed and sat down, my back towards him I brushed my hair off my back exposing the corset that was rubbing against scars on my back, and somehow he understood what I wanted. Rising from the chair he sat before me, using his good hand to loosen the lace ties that held the corset closed. Silence set in between us, and when he'd finished the article of clothing slipped away yet instead of moving away his finger traced the red and puffy scars, sending shivers down my spine.

"Beautiful aren't they?" I asked, my tone filled with sarcasm.

"Yes you are." He responded, causing me to turn around to face him. For a moment I thought he was being sarcastic, yet I only found sincerity in his eyes. I rolled my eyes and turned away, ashamed in the scars on my body, yet he leaned forward pressing his lips to several of the scars.

"Flattery only gets you so far Mr. Holmes." I stated, resisting the urge to throw myself on him knowing that neither one of us is in any state for such activities. "You should go get ready for the peace summit."

"There's still time." He responded, and I couldn't stop the smile the rose to my face as I turned to face him. He pressed his lips to mine, and I let myself relish in the moment before pulling away before I let him get his way.

"I don't think either one of us are in the best condition for that, now go..." I said kissing him again one last time before he left for the summit and I went on the task he had for me.

"So bossy."

"Go..." I laughed, pushing him away. "I'll see you soon enough." I said as he rose from the bed and headed towards the door. One again I was alone, and wasting no time I packed my bags dressed in warm clothes and waited until the time he indicated in his letter before heading into the cold winter air of Switzerland, securing a horse drawn sleigh. 5 minutes before he executed his final plan to rid the world of Moritary, and while I could be enjoying the warmth of the cottage, I waited at the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls watching in silence when two bodies fell the length of the falls before hitting the frigid waters.


	19. Two Words

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

This was really an unneeded and stupid part of his plan, sitting at a pew beside my Aunt and Mary listening to a priest talk about the greatest detective in all of London, at his funeral while he sits in an undisclosed location that only I know of. While all other shed tears, I simply watched, waiting for the moment when we'd all leave, so that I could return to his hiding place. He said that I need to make it appear as if he truly were gone, yet that was easier said than done since I was there to fish him from the frigid waters below the Reichenbach Falls, so many people I wished to tell for now would remain in the dark until he decided that it was time for the world to know that the great Sherlock Holmes was indeed still very much alive.

When the service finally ended I instantly made my way towards the door, needing to take a carriage on the other side of town to get to where I was going. But the moment I made it to the street a hand grasped my shoulder, and I turned around greeting Doctor Watson and Mary with a sad smile, trying desperately to fake my emotions. When I was offered Lunch with them I thought quickly about all the excuses I'd come up with in my head, all the while keeping the funeral of my mother and death of my brother in my thoughts to bring tears to my eyes.

"I want nothing more than to spend the day with close friends..." I stated, wiping fake tears from my eyes with a handkerchief I'd been handed. "But it's a beautiful day and I might go for a walk." That seemed to convince them for a moment but then Mary offered to walk along, stating that it might help ease the suffering her husband was obviously feeling as well. This is exactly why I had argued about going to his funeral, I'm not good at saying no to people in need. How does one say no in a time such as this? "I would love the company, but I need some time alone." I said, turning on my heel and starting down the street before they could argue any further.

When I finally arrived at the waiting carriage, I stepped inside shutting the door behind me before I sat down, ignoring the look of amusement I received from Sherlock. Giving the man across from me a glare before turning my attention out the window, "I assume the funeral was beautiful?" He questioned, which caused a smile to break out on my face. 

"Yes many tears were shed." I responded, as I reached up to removed the veil the rested in front of my face, setting it on the seat beside me. "Watson and Mary offered to take me to lunch, which I had to refuse, this is exactly why I told you that this plan of yours is stupid."

"Moriarty wasn't alone in his plans, meaning that by my death I can continue..."

"You're investigation without being interrupted, I know." I said before sighing. "Yet keeping Watson in the dark on all this is absolutely needed?" I questioned, turning to look at him with a frown on my face. I barely saw the Doctor at the funeral, he'd gone off on his own halfway thru the service, sitting alone and suffering as I would have if I hadn't known the truth.

"He's no longer part of my investigations. Though I'm sure its only a matter of time before he knows the truth." He replied, eyes out the window as we approached the secret location, a small flat located above a pub in Lambeth. Exited the carriage I went upstairs first, saying hello to the bartender as I opened the door to the flat setting my handbag on the side table before into the bedroom to change clothes. For a moment I'd thought about what he'd said, and when he entered the room soon after me I looked at him confused by what he'd meant, then my eyes widened.

"The contraption you took from your brother." I stated and he nodded. "Seriously Sherlock, wouldn't it be much easier to just tell him rather than play this game?" He chuckled and I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "You are a very cruel man."

"Would that change how you feel about me?" He pondered as he sat down in the chair in the main room. With another roll of my eyes I gave him my answer, and he grinned which then resulted in a pillow being thrown his way. "In a weeks time I'll need you to pay them a visit, for tea perhaps." 

"You do realize that I'm not your lackey." I huffed, pulling a robe over my shoulders before I made my way into the kitchen to make some tea, when a hand caught my wrist forcing me and into his lap. 

"No you're the woman I've grown very fond of that would do anything for me." He said, and I knew what he meant, for it was his way of telling me what he'd felt towards me. I bit my lip and sat in thought, faking my emotions like I'd been doing all day.

"Would do anything for you, are you sure about that?" I questioned kissing his cheek before making an attempt to get up, yet the arms around my waist tightened. His hand gripped my chin, dark eyes locked on my lips before he leaned in pressing a soft gentle kiss to then which soon turned passionate when his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, and I obliged parting my lips letting his tongue explore. When he pulled away we were both breathless. "Tea with the Watson's in a week, I'm sure I can fit that into my busy schedule." I stated, kissing him once more before lifting myself off his lap, walking into the kitchen to start a pot of tea. "What time was your brother coming?"

"Noon." He responded, reaching for the paper while I sat at the table waiting for the pot of water to boil. I was very much aware that Mycroft knew about this plan the moment I left the cottage in Switzerland, for he nodded towards me and I to him before they went to the Summit and I waited at the bottom of the falls, yet why he felt the need to not inform anyone else remained a mystery.

"Well then while you two continue talking about world threats, I shall head to lunch with my Aunt." I said, picking up the kettle and pouring the boiling water over the leaves in the pot before returning to the main room setting the tray on the tea table. "As you said, I make my rounds of appearances, keep everyone believing that I'm a suffering Wid..." I stopped myself before sighing, heading into the bedroom to change. By the time I'd finished changing, a knock on the door meant our guest had arrived, and though I had no problem with the Mycroft, I simply went about other business while he visited. 

"What were you about to say?" He questioned before I opened the door. I didn't turn to look at him, for he knew already and why he'd felt the need to ask, I didn't know. Sighing heavily I placed a hand to the door handle, ready to let in his older brother while I stepped out to take lunch with family.

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to be late and your brother is here." I said, taking a deep breath twisting the handle. I wouldn't lie if I said I didn't think about being his wife, for that was always a constant wish I'd held onto, but I knew my place in his life and I was happy with it. I didn't need anything more, so I never asked. Yet as I was about to open the door he said the two words that I never thought I'd hear come from the lips of Sherlock Holmes.

"Marry me."

"Excuse me?" I said turning around to face him. Had I heard that right or was I simply dreaming? Then he said them again, those same two words, and this time I had nothing to say, instead I stood still listening, my heart beating loudly in my chest. "I don't know if its the right time..."

"Correct, perhaps it isn't." He cut me off. "I should have asked months ago, yet I didn't so now I am." He added on, eyes locked on me and mine on him. "Is that a yes then?" I couldn't speak, couldn't think yet somehow I'd managed to nod my head. He rose took my hand and placed a quaint diamond band onto my palm closing my hand into a fist around it. Another more impatient knock brought me back into reality, and as he placed a kiss to my cheek he moved back to his seat.

Opening the door I let Mycroft in before heading out to lunch, leaving the flat I was no longer just Erika Irvine but now I was the secret fiancée of Sherlock Holmes, and until the time came when he came forth as alive, I would have to keep my engagement to myself, even from those I'd come to care for. Walking down the street I caught a carriage to Baker Street, tucking the ring into my hand bag, all the while staring out into the distance. "Mrs. Erika Holmes..." I whispered to myself, giggling at the way it sounded, and the more I said it the more I'd come to love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a month after Switzerland, so in that time Erika has left her employment and has been traveling with Holmes from place to place. Hope that clears somethings up, please enjoy!


	20. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Secrets, I've had many. Most were about things that happened when I was a child, but never did I think that I'd be keeping my engagement one. While other women and excited to flaunt their rings, I hide mine while in public, for it I told everyone I knew that I was betrothed to a dead man I'd most likely be spending the rest of my lift in an asylum. I had been doing well since he'd asked a week ago, keeping my ring tucked in my pocket bag whenever I was out of the flat yet like any normal human being on this planet it was only a matter of time before I made a mistake. It just happened to be the day I was taking tea with the Doctor and his wife, I'd had the band on my finger while on my way to their house and I would have removed it had I not been distracted with man across from me. Dressed in several layers of clothing, a beard with glasses and top hat one might think that on my way for tea I stopped at Lambeth Asylum and helped a crazed man escape.

"You look absolutely ridiculous." I told him, trying hard not burst into a fit of laughter every time I looked at him. "So while I'm having tea with them, where will you be?" I questioned keeping my eyes out the window, fidgeting with the band around my finger. That should have been the first clue that I needed to take it off, yet at the time it never dawned on me.

"Incognito." He replied, tucking his pipe into his pocket as the carriage came to a stop a block away from my destination. Lifting myself I stopped to kiss his cheek, refusing to kiss him with that beard. Stepping out I began my journey down the street, holding tight to my shawl as I approached the building in which the Watson's resided. Knocking on the door I was greeted by Mary, who gave me a kind smile and escorted me in, shutting the door behind her before we sat down in the parlor.

"John should be along shortly, he's just finishing up his last adventure." She said sitting down across from me. I had just reached for my glass when she gasped as her eyes zoomed in on my hand, looking down the world froze. Damn him for distracting me with his idea of a good disguise, now I'd have to explain my ring on my finger with a good excuse. Luckily she didn't have time to ask as the good Doctor had call to her from another room and footsteps on the hardwood floor meant he was approaching.

"Mary, who delivered this parcel?" He questioned on his way into the room. Lifting my glass of tea to my lips, I hide my smile trying hard to be as stoic as Sherlock but failing, if she hadn't been looking towards the doorway then she might have called me out for the devious plan of my fiancée's. Technically I was the one that brought it to the post office a week ago, but I bit my tongue playing the typical dumb blonde.

"The postman." Mary replied.

"Was it the usual chap, or did he look peculiar?" He asked, finally stepping into the parlor. I didn't look to meet his gaze, for I knew what was in the package, well actually it was now in his hand, the breathing apparatus Sherlock had taken from his brother. Two sets of eyes were upon me as I set my glass down, yet I didn't have to say a word. "Where?" I was asked.

"Does it matter?" I questioned. He then stepped forward, the contraption held tight into his fist, he asked me again. "The most current residence is in Lambeth, but he's not one to sit for long so I'd guess in a week or so we'll be moving again." I stated bluntly finally moving my gaze to the Doctor who looked less than happy, which was to be expected. "He seems to be under the belief that you're better off being left out of the plans, I told him it was a stupid idea yet he listens as well as a misbehaving child."

"How long?" Watson asked.

"How long have I known, or, how long before he would decide it was good time to tell you? You must be clearer with your questions." I said, which caused Mary to nearly choke on the tea. "I was the one that fished him out of the water."

"Who else knew?"

"Aside from me, believe only his brother." I answered reaching for my glass again, refilling it and adding my sweetener and milk. When asked about Sherlock's current location I shrugged my shoulders, for that I actually had no answer for he never said where he was going only that he'd be incognito, a fact I let them know. Then there was the question I'd been waiting for, the ring. "A week ago, surprised me just as much as I'm sure it's surprising you."

"Holmes, betrothed I have a hard time believing that." The Doctor replied, and I nodded my head in agreement. I still couldn't believe it, yet the ring was my proof that he had indeed asked, no stated, that we'd be wed. When that was I didn't know, nor was I in any rush for marriage, I was perfectly happy the way things were. 

"I don't wear a ring on my finger as a fashion statement Doctor." I lifted my glass to my lips, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip. The last of their questions was a simple one, why? Why hadn't he just said what his plans were, it would have saved a lot of tears and I believe he knew that however, "Who better to catch those who expect to get away with anything than a ghost?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, just to clear things up, its been a month since the Peace Summit. I also figured that Moriarty did survive the fall, much like Holmes but it's unclear to everyone at the moment. For a while the main villain, who is under the Professors orders with be Sebastian Moran, much like he is in the book. Please enjoy!


	21. Birmingham

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

When I said that in a week we'd be moving again, I didn't actually think I'd be correct, not that it surprised me because as I've stated before Sherlock wasn't one to sit in one place for long. First it was a Chichester, followed by our current residence in Lambeth and just as I was starting to get comfortable we were on the move once more. With bags packed we waited until the sun had set before leaving Lambeth, boarded a train and started off on our next adventure to our new home, the whole trip he remained disguised in his most unconvincing disguise I'd ever seen, and in the past month I'd seen many. It was a miracle that he'd managed to fit himself into one of my dresses and the wig was a nice touch, it fooled the men at the train station as they told me and my sister to enjoy our trip, and never in my life had I ever laughed as hard as I had when we got to our cabin. 

"Are you quite finished?" He questioned, I would have been if I hadn't turned to look at him before bursting into a fit of laughter once more. My laughter died when he removed the wig from his head and set it beside him on the seat, as I wiped tears from my eyes I turned my gaze towards him.

"I'm finished...Sister." I said, earning a glare from him as I giggled seeing in those dark eyes of his, he found this just as amusing as I did. "You never said where we were off to this time." I said after clearing my throat. 

"Birmingham." He responded.

"Birmingham?" I questioned, not in the least surprised that he'd pick the one city in the entire country infested with crime and gangs to live. "Any particular reason why?"

"A lone gun for hire lost without his leader, what better place to hide than in a city infested gangs and illegal practices." It took a moment before I figured about whom he was walking about, before it dawned on me. The lone gunner and Moriarty's right hand man.

"Moran." He nodded, and I shook mine. "You take out their leader and they'd be looking for money and safety. You believe that he's involved in the gangs of Birmingham."

"Not all, one." He replied, my eyes widened.

"Blinders." I said, shaking my head again. "The Bloody Peaky Blinders. Can you be sure that Sebastian Moran is involved with them?" He had pulled out his pipe while I spoke and now he'd been searching for the lighter to ignite the tobacco. "Packed in your bag." Silence slowly creeped in as he searched his bag for the lighter, when found he sat back down. After a moment of quiet between us, I asked once more "Are you sure Moran is involved with the Blinders?" 

"Not just involved, leading."

"Wait leading? The Blinders have only been terrorizing Birmingham for a year. Unless you're under the belief that they were part of Moriary's organization, and upon his death..." I stopped to look to him, and the look in his eyes finished what I was about to say. "So what's your plan then? You most certainly can't be seen out in the open, Moran would come looking for you and since he has a gang of men who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty, you wouldn't stand a chance." Silence returned then, and after a few minutes he sighed looking up to me with apologetic eyes. "I see..."

"If there were another way..." I shook my head, understanding that this was the only way.

"From a maid, to the fiancée of the worlds greatest detective and now a spy. Eventually I'll run out of job titles." I stated, looking out the window, watching the city that would be my new home rise from the distance.

"After this you will only have one." I smiled at that, fidgeting with the ring on my finger. "Mrs. Erika Holmes, has a nice ring to it."

"Well until the danger has passed and you're no longer a target for a mad man who's good with a gun, that will have to wait." I stated as I rose to grab my bags as we neared the station. Glancing back towards him a smile rose to my face as I nodded towards the wig that he'd left sitting beside him. "Might want to doll yourself up sister, I heard men in Birmingham are to die for." 

"You are a very evil woman." He stated, rising from his seat to grab his bag, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the giggle from escaping my lips.

"In that case then lock me and throw away the key, is that not what you do with evil people?" I questioned, giggling again as I reached for the handle of the cabin door when his hand stopped me, turning me to face him. His thumb passed my lips, and though I wanted his lips to mine, there were people out there who could easily see in through the windows. "We have all the time in the world for this later, but right now there are people out there and I'm in no mood to give them a show." With that I opened the door into the city that would be my new home, and much like London it smelt of smoke from the factories that towered above the streets. I could feels eyes upon me and I wouldn't lie that I didn't feel any fear, yet an arm linked with mine, and soon we were headed down the main street to our new home, along the way ignoring the hoots and whistles of men. "You realize they're whistling for you." That made him chuckle, a rare sign of emotion from Sherlock Holmes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little nod to Peaky Blinders, I'm taking creative liberty with the books and history here, having Moriarty's criminal organization play into the infamous gang. Hope that doesn't bother anyone, and if so I'm sorry but in order to keep things going and have the ending I want for this story I need more bad guys. Please do enjoy!


	22. New Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

This wasn't I expected to be doing while undercover, then again I suppose it could have been much worse, I wasn't in the streets and I was doing what I knew, cleaning. It was a step down from working in a house, and it most certainly wasn't glorious cleaning up vomit and spittoons while serving alcohol to factory workers, all the while ignore the occasional advances from men who are either on the payroll for the Blinders or are part of the gang's inner circle. The plan was to watch them, learn if Moran was really leading them or if there was another who was the true leader, and wait for the lone gunman to mess up while Sherlock remained hidden. If I had known that this plan meant that he'd be hiding in plain sight, I might have never agreed to take a job as a barmaid in a city run by a gang.

It was a slow day, slower than usual when a group of men entered and it didn't take me long to realize who they were. Turning my head I went about rearranging bottles on the shelf behind the bar while Baxter, the Barman, took care of the men, handing over a bottle of rum when I heard the fake name I had come up with. "Nora McGoldrick, sir. Showed up last night and demanded a job." He said before whispering the name telling me to turn around, so I did only to be greeted with familiar blue eyes. "Sebastian Moran, you treat him and his boys like royalty, understand?"

"Yes sir." I respond, trying not to avert my gaze and look to the only other man in the pub. I expected him to disappear into the other room like his mates had, yet he remained eyes locked onto me, searching.

"You look familiar..." My heart stopped as I turned back to the shelves continuing what I was doing, trying to dull the fear that was slowly taking hold. "You from London Ms. McGoldrick?"

"No, Scotland sir. Edinburgh to be exact." I replied using my native accent. I heard him leave, the door shutting behind him as I sighed heavily. Baxter left soon after, leaving me with a room full of criminals, the perfect opportunity to crack the window between the bar and other room to listen. For an hour I listened to them plot their next race, remaining as quiet as humanly possible, when the conversation changed I gave it my full attention, writing down everything said before quietly shutting the window and moved back to the shelf. When the doors to the other room opened, they were quick to leave yet he turned to look back once more and blue eyes met brown, before I looked away. When they were all gone, I grabbed my things and headed out the door, starting towards the flat. Passing by Paradise Street a whistle caught my attention and before I knew who it was, an arm of an older man linked with my own. I sighed and continued on walking, rolling my eyes. "What part of stay in the flat is hard for you?"

"I did just as I said I would." Sherlock replied, he then frowned looking down at me, confused. "Is that an accent I hear?" He questioned, I giggled and shook my head.

"I'm Nora McGoldrick, born and raised in Scotland here to tend to my sick sister, remember?" I said, repeating the story in which he'd come up with. "Don't get used to it, teachers made sure I left school sounding like a proper English woman."

"Shame."

"Now would you like to explain what your doing out here?" I questioned, reaching for the notes I'd written down and handing it to him.

"I was simply doing my own investigating, while you were busy listening in on other people's conversations." He replied, and that was about as much information as he was going to give, so I dropped it.

"I thought the whole point of coming here was for me to do the surveillance." I said, stopping to fish out my key for the flat, unlocking the door I stepped inside and he shut it behind him.

"And you're doing a brilliant job."

"Let me guess you got tired of sitting around so you decided to venture out and do your own investigating." I nodded my head, sitting down in a chair in the main room, watching him disappear into the bedroom to change. "Not sure my cover will last long, I've convinced the Barman but Moran can see right through it."

"So long as he think's I'm dead, you'll be fine." He said walking back into the room, sitting down in the chair across from me. "If things do get out of hand you remember what I've told you." I nodded my head, frowning at the very thought of what I'd be forced to do.

"I know."

"Now onto a more pressing topic, that accent of yours." I rolled my eyes and rose to my feet to get a pot of tea. "Its not entirely true what you've said. Your teachers may have taught you to speak like a proper English woman, but you were ashamed of your accent." Setting the pot back down I sighed, glancing at him from the kitchen a frown on my face.

"Ashamed, no. I was teased by the other children as was my sister for sounding different. Among other things they'd said about me, so I dropped my accent." I explained, as I rose to my toes to reach the tea that he'd left on the top shelf, when he appeared before me, reaching for the tea to hand it down to me. "Thank you." I said, moving to the pot to add the leaves before letting it steep. "Why are you bringin' this up?" I questioned, biting my lip when it slip through again.

"I find it intriguing, such a shame you don't use your accent more often." He replied moving back to his seat, leaving me standing in the kitchen bewildered and flattered. He had a funny way of complimenting a person, yet I wouldn't change a thing about this impossible, irritating yet dashing man.


	23. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

In the six days I'd been working at the Garrison I'd only seen Sebastian Moran once, though there was a decent amount of Peaky Blinders in daily one of which was not like the others. Though he was as stoic as my fiancée and all the stories about the young man, there was a softness in his eyes, something kinder than the others. He entered an hour after the usual's had, moved to the bar and order a bottle of Irish Whiskey, I informed him that it was on the house and I expected him to disappear into the other room, yet he did not. Instead blue eyes were locked upon me, as if he was looking for something hidden away.

"Are you a whore?" He questioned, causing me to nearly drop the pint I'd been holding. Turning to face him again I was thankful that for once that Sherlock actually stayed in the flat like he'd said he would, otherwise there might have been a bar fight between him and a gang of men. "If you're not, you're in the wrong place." With that, he disappeared behind the door leaving me with the normal patrons. For an hour I helped Baxter filling orders, when the window opened and the man had returned with new orders, "Bring some glasses and a bottle of rum." The window closed and I went about getting them what they wanted before entering the room, setting the glasses down along with the rum when one of the men grabbed my wrist.

"This is the new girl, she's quite something isn't she?" He questioned, turning me to face the others. Eyes were upon me like a pack of hungry dogs, feasting on my flesh without touching, and I feared they would have had their way with me if not for the young man who'd placed the order or glasses and rum clearing his throat. The hand on my wrist dropped, and the man turned to return to his seat while I made my way towards the door, stopping when he spoke.

"What kind of work were you doing before arriving in Birmingham Ms. McGoldrick?" He questioned.

"Maid sir, working for a family in Edinburgh." I replied, keeping eye contact with him, hiding my fears and worries. "Came here to tend to my ailing sister." He nodded his head and sipped away at his drink, picking up empty glasses and setting them onto a tray I made my way towards the door, when another man stopped me. "I have work to do, so would you kindly move?" I asked, pushing through the men and out the door. When I made it out of the room he was there, sitting at the bar with a glass in his hand. Cold blue eyes turned towards me as he lifted the glass, nodding towards the bar and I understood what he wanted. Setting the tray on the counter I moved around the bar to grab a bottle of gin, refilling the glass and stepping away.

"Hyde Park, London you were with your sister." He said, stopping in my tracks. I didn't move, didn't speak nor breathe, the only sound I could hear was the beating of my heart in my chest. 

"You must be mistaken, I'm simply a barmaid doing my job." I said, remaining completely still and eyes upon him watching for any movement. "Now if you don't mind I have work to do." 

"You're secret is safe with me, but I should warn you that the other boys don't take well with spies." He said, stopping me once more as I neared the kitchen, my heart racing in my chest.

"As I've stated, I am merely a barmaid, sir." I replied. 

"Be warned, Ms. Irvine if you attempt to interfere, you'll find the next dead body in the streets of Birmingham will be yours." He said, setting his glass down as he rose from his seat. "The boss sends his condolences." Retreating footsteps meant he was leaving and when I turned he was heading out the door. I made my way into the kitchen set down the tray and took a few deep breathes to calm my racing heart.

"I don't pay you to stand around girl." Baxter said from the doorway. "Get out there and serve the men out there drinks before I decide to throw you back out onto the streets." Turning on my heel I did as I was told, serving drinks to patrons late into the night. By the time I'd returned home I thought perhaps he'd gone to bed, yet sitting by the window looking out into the Birmingham skyline his head turned just as I shut the door.

"And here I was expecting to find you anywhere else but in the flat." I stated as I made my way into the kitchen to make something to eat. While I cooked it was silent, when I set food before him it was silent but the moment I sat down he spoke.

"Something is bothering you." I wasn't in the least surprised, he saw everything even the changes in ones attitude. Sighing I set my fork down, looking out into the distance. 

"My cover has been blown and I've been warned to not interfere with his plans." I said. "He also said, 'The boss sends his condolences'." I said turning my head to look at hime, expecting him to be in shock yet there was nothing, no emotion which meant that he was lost in thought. "Sherlock..." Still nothing, so I reached forward placing a hand on his. "Sherlock."

"My theory was correct." He said, turning his hand in mine, taking hold of it in a tight grip. 

"What theory?" I questioned, before I'd finally realized what he meant. "No, that's not possible." I said, a frown on my face as I shook my head. "It was a miracle that you survived, what makes you believe he did as well?"

"I've had my suspicions, but now I'm almost certain he's pulling the strings." He said.

"But we don't know for certain, he could have been playing mind games." I stated before once more going silent, thinking. "If I get closer to them, influtrated them from the inside..."

"Absolutely not."

"What other way are we going to know their plans? I can only hear so much from the other side of the wall." I respond, looking to him with a sad smile. "I'm not afraid of the dangers, if I were I'd still be cleaning rooms at Baker Street." Rising from my seat I took the dishes and started towards the kitchen when his hand took my wrist. 

"Be careful, if something happened to you..." I smiled and leaned down pressing my lips to his. Rising from his seat he backed me into the door of the bedroom, hands stumbled for the handle and once the door opened he kicked it closed. He wasn't one to show emotion, nor was he romantic but he knew how to please me and he cared in his own strange way. My hands fisted into his dark hair, as I pulled my lips away, my forehead against his own.

"I give you my word that no harm shall come to me." I whispered, my lips barely centimeters from his. "Now then would you mind helping me out of these clothes?"

"Gladly."


	24. Second Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

There was one rule I had to obey while working at the Garrison, and that was I absolutely could not sing. Now coming from a half Scottish home, that rule was easily disobeyed, especially when there was no one around and I was alone. Though I rarely sang out loud, resorting to humming while I cleaned, I found myself quietly singing while I cleaned the floors. Not that it bothered the only other person in the Pub, for he listened in silence while I sang cleaning the bar yet he cleared his throat when the young man from the other day entered. Instantly my song ended, and silence set in, and I expected to be yelled at for breaking the lone rule yet he said nothing and moved to the bar. He took a bottle, sat down his eyes glued to me when he requested that I continue. Turning my head towards him, I gave him a look of confusion before doing exactly as told continuing my song.

"Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing, onward the sailors cry. Carry the lad that's born to be king, over the sea to Skye." I sang. Dipping the rag I held into the bucket at my left, rang it out before finishing off the floor before rising up to dump the water out back. When I returned he was still seated, sipping at his drink his back towards the bar. Setting the bucket in the kitchen and hanging the rag to dry, I stepped back out front humming quietly as I restocked the glasses and rearranged the bottles on the shelf when my name was called. Turning my head towards the young man, I silently moved towards his table sitting down when he nodded towards the chair.

"Mr. Harris says you do most of the bookkeeping here, is this true?" He questioned. 

"Yes sir." I respond, the first truth I'd given since I'd arrived in Birmingham. 

"You're good with numbers then." He said. 

"I wouldn't say that, I'd say average. No better than any other lad or lass." I said, the second truth to come from my lips. "Is this a job interview?" I questioned, earning a look from the younger man, stern and serious very different than from the first time we'd met. I bit my tongue and averted my gaze away, waiting to be yelled at for talking out of turn, yet there was nothing.

"I need someone who can keep the books in order." He responded.

"Sir, I'm just a barmaid who on occasion makes sure the affairs are in order." I replied as I rose from my seat, needing to get back to work before the normal patrons arrived for the evening when his hand caught my wrist pulling me back into my seat.

"As of today you no longer work behind the bar." He said, snapping his fingers. Within moments the doors opened and two men stepped in, a woman trailing behind them. I'd spent days working on a way into their gang, so many ideas that were doomed to fail and here it was being handed to me on a silver platter.

"I don't understand sir, I work for Mr. Harris."

"You work for me as does Mr. Harris." He replied, turning his cold gaze upon me. I bit my tongue watching as the new barmaid took her place at the bar, and it wasn't until I took a good look at the woman when my heart nearly stopped. How long had it been since I'd seen my youngest sister Emilia, she was merely a baby when I left home yet the similar blonde hair and copper brown eyes gave her away. "Is there a problem Ms. McGoldrick?" 

"No, sir." I said, turning my attention back to the young man. "I accept the job offer sir, but I shall insist that I work from here." I had no right to the request, if anything asking one of the Blinders for something like that could get a person killed but he nodded his head and rose from his seat. 

"You start bright and early tomorrow." He said before he started for the door. Once he was gone I took a deep breath, and remained seated watching the new barmaid continue what I had started. In all the ideas I'd come up with to get to this moment, never once did I think that she'd be part of the equation. Rising from the table, I picked up the glass and bottle, setting both on the counter. 

"So you're from Scotland?" Emilia asked, taking the bottle and setting back on the shelf, looking to me with a kind smile. "My mother was Scottish as well." Of course she didn't know who I was, she was a baby when I left.

"Edinburgh." I said, taking the bottle putting it on the shelf. "Might I inquire the name of the woman taking my job?" I questioned, though I already knew it, perhaps it was a need to hear her say it.

"Emilia Irvine." She responded. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Ms. McGoldrick." She stated with a smile as she headed towards the kitchen, and I followed. "You know its a real honor that you've been given, its not everyday Mr. Shelby gives strangers important jobs."

"You know them very well, do you?" I questioned and she nodded as she set dishes into the sink. "How long have you been in Birmingham?"

"A year or so now. The factory I was working in closed down after an explosion, so I thought I ended up here, thought maybe I could find work in another factory." Her smile faded and I knew where it was going, and despite the fact I wanted to take her into my arms and comfort her through the memories, I stood still. "I ended up doing work no woman should, that's how I met Mr. Moran. He offered me a job and now I'm here." My heart shattered over and over again in my chest as I listened, the pain she'd gone through all those years, much like the pain and suffering Jamie had experienced. "So you're here to tend to an ailing sister right?"

"Yes, hopefully she's gets well soon so that I can return to my home." I replied, she smiled turning around to look at me.

"That's admirable. I have a few sisters myself, one of which lives in Edinburgh, Charlotte Bennett you might have heard of her." The world stopped, for a while I assumed she didn't remember, she was only a baby when we left. "So Eri, which one of our sisters are you taking care of?"


	25. A New Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

"_So Eri, which one of our sisters are you taking care of?"_

She shouldn't remember me, she was a baby when Charlotte and I were sent away, I suppose the resemblance between us was a giveaway to my true identity though there are many woman out there with golden locks and copper eyes. When the question left her lips, I didn't have an answer. I couldn't lie to my sister yet if I told her the truth to why I was here, she'd either tell her friends in the gang that I was infiltrating or have me sent to the asylum. My silence only seemed to irritate her, as she stepped forward and repeated her question, and instead of remaining quiet, I gave her my answer.

"I can't tell you." I said. She scoffed at that, and rolled her eyes before stepping leaning down to get my attention.

"You can trust me Erika." She said. I shook my head, stepping away from her with a frown on my face. I trusted our brother too at one point, he then turned on me, tortured me, buried me alive all for the sake of getting rid of the one man standing in Moriarty's way.

"I trusted Jamie too," I said as I turned around, pulling the back of my dress to the side to show the scars littering my back. "That is until he decided to take a whip to my back and had me buried alive, left to die in Lambeth Cemetery." She stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief.

"No...Jamie wouldn't." She said.

"He thought that by using me, he could kill the one man standing in the way of a criminal mastermind, it didn't end well for him. When the criminal discovered his plans he sent his right hand man to execute him, it was while he laid dying that he gave up my location and I was rescued." I stated, and she continued to back up further, shaking her head. "The man that killed him is the same man that gave you this job."

"No, you're lying!"

"Why would I lie about that, Emilia?" I questioned, keeping my eyes locked on hers. There was silence as she came to grip with that I was saying, though the disbelief in her eyes showed that she didn't believe a word I was saying. "The men you are working for, they are terrible men who have killed numerous people." I stepped towards her, placing hands on her shoulders. "And until I know what their plans are, you have to promise not to say a word about my true identity."

"Why should I trust you? They took me from the brothel and offered me a second chance at life." She replied, shaking my hands free. I sighed and stepped away, running a hand through my hair trying to think of how to best explain my situation. 

"A few months ago I helped someone survive death, and in those few months we've been moving across the country following leads that could finally bring down the greatest criminal organization in the world." I said, my eyes locked on hers. "Up until a few days ago my cover has had everyone convinced, then Moran discovered me thus you were brought in as a means to keep me from prying." She was silent for a moment, then her eyes widened as she backed into the sink.

"That's impossible." She said. It didn't surprise me that she'd heard the news, I'm sure half the country knew about Sherlock and Moriarty's deaths in Switzerland. "No one can survive a fall from that height."

"Don't ask because he's explained it once and I had a hard time keeping up with it." I said, holding my hand up to stop any questions. "Now that you know, you need to promise me that you will not say a word to anyone." She hesitated, so I took a step forward placing a hand to her cheek. "Gealltanas mi Piuthar." I said in my native tongue, and after a few minutes she finally nodded her head, tears ready to fall. I smiled and placed a kiss to her forehead, stepping away when she grabbed my wrist.

"I won't let you do this on your own." She said, and before I could argue she shook her head placing a finger to my lips. "I know them and they trust me, well enough that I'm let in on their meetings. I can get information that you won't be allowed to see, so either you let me help or struggle for another several months." I sighed, nodded my head and she gleamed, wrapping her arms around my waist, an embrace that was long overdue. When she parted, she looked up to me, curiosity in her eyes, "Since I'm now part of these plans, does that mean I'll get to meet the Great Sherlock Holmes."

If she'd asked me months ago, I would have been more than excited to introduce them, but due to the circumstances I knew that he'd be more than pissed that I caved and informed someone on the plans we'd been working on for months. But the hopeful look in her eyes and the small smile on her face, I gave in. "Tonight, when you're free I shall introduce you, but I must warn you, Sherlock has an," I stopped to think of the right wording to describe my fiancée, "Abrasive personality."

"For the last year I've been surrounded by men with abrasive personalities, its nothing new for me." She replied with a giggle before sighing when the sound of the nights patron's filed in. "I should get to work, the last thing we need is for me to lose my position here." As she passed by she patted me on the shoulder, and just like that Emilia was gone, serving alcohol to boring and terrible men. I headed out the backdoor, starting back to the flat all the while thinking of how I could possibly tell him about the fact my younger sister will be joining our little plan.

"He's going to kill me."


	26. Sister's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her family offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

There were was one could use to describe the current situation I found myself in, awkward, tense and many more that at the moment I couldn't think of. To my left was my younger sister Emilia and across the room Sherlock sat, hands folded in front of him eyes locked on the younger woman studying her. I had warned her on the way here of what to expect of him, and to this she said she was prepared for whatever he'd have to say, yet the first words that broke the silence between us were surprising and unexpected.

"The youngest child, yet that's not entirely true is it?" He asked. I remained silent averting my gaze as Emilia took a sharp breath in, she looked at me amazed that he'd been able to figure that out without any prior evidence. "Two sisters born 5 minutes apart, though one of you lived past your childhood while the other died in their infancy, measles."

"Incredible. Though I assume that Erika told you all of this." She responded with a smile as she lifted her cup to tea to her lips, looking to me as I shook my head. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that he figured all that out on his own."

"You'd be surprised." I replied, lifting my own glass to my lips.

"A photograph of two children, kept on the mantle above the fireplace, expensive given the circumstances. I presumed your twins death by the fact that no one bothered to bring it up." He said, turning his gaze from her towards me.

"No one bothered to ask." I responded, meeting his gaze with a coy smile. When I brought up the that my sister would be joining us, he was none to happy but instead of letting his displeasure of having another in on the plans I simply gave him the same attitude as I'd been receiving from earlier. 

"But there's more to your story. Like your brother you were taken from home, though instead of the work house you were forced into working in a factory. Worked there until you were 19 when you left after an accident at the factory." He went on, and she nodded to everything he had said.

"Queenshithe Slaughterhouse." She said, stopping his train of thought. Turning to look at her, as she set her cup down on the tea table, when she looked up she cleared her throat. "The factory you're talking about was a slaughterhouse on Nine Elms, that's where I was working before an explosion forced them to shut down production." I watched his emotions change from annoyed to shock then back again in what seemed to be a matter of moments, before realizing what truly happened.

"Right, but what truly brought you here to Birmingham is what interests me." He said and in an instant Emilia went from an excited young woman meeting a legend to horror. "It was a man, twice your age, engaged to another woman..."

"Sherlock." I said, hoping to stop him before he said something to upset her.

"When he found out you were with child he sent you here, told you that he'd join you in a months time but he never arrived. Heartbroken you took matters into your own hands, ending the pregnancy prematurely." He said. I sighed setting my own cup on the table looking to Emilia who listened on, her eyes no longer filled with excitement but rather sadness. 

"Right on all accounts except for one Mr. Holmes. I didn't abort my child, she died before her birth." She said rising from her seat, thanking me for the cup of tea before saying she'd see me tomorrow and leaving. I rose from my seat, cleaning up the dishes heading into the kitchen, not once saying a word. Setting the tray down, I glanced into the main room and away again sighing heavily.

"As much as you hate the idea of including someone else in on your plans, she has the ability to get into their organization without questions being asked." I started before he spoke.  
"It's not safe..."

"It's not safe for anyone Sherlock, but it would take us twice as long to put an end to this if we don't have someone on the inside." I replied, turning back to him with a glare, looking away once more I set the tray down making my way back into the main room. "I'm inviting her to tea again tomorrow, where you will rightly apologize for your impertinent behavior. Because like it or not darling, she's going to be part of this plan despite our mutual dislike of her involvement."

"You sound just like Watson." He complained, which got me to smile.

"Why because neither him nor I will put up with your imprudent behavior towards other people?" I questioned, before leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"You are an infuriating woman."

"And you are an troublesome man." I responded, a smile on my face. Humming to myself I barely heard him get up from his seat, yet when arms wrapped around my waist and lips softly brushed against my neck, I rolled my eyes. "A devilish troublesome man." I said smiling ever so slightly, trying hard to push him back. "Who is very gifted with the art of distraction." He knew that, it was one of the many things he was good at, and despite the chores I had left to do and the fact I had an early start in the morning, I let myself descend into the hole of passion. Turning in his arms I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his body closer, trembling in need as his hands explored my body and his tongue flicked against mine. When his lips left mine, I followed, my forehead resting against his own as we both struggled to catch our breaths. "As much as I would love to continue, I have chores..."

"Later." His lips met mine once more, and I didn't fight him.


	27. What Lies Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

If there was one thing on this planet I loved most, it was the sound of rain falling on the roof, soothing and relaxing I could sleep the day away if I didn't have get to the Garrison to start my job keeping track of a gangs finances. That didn't stop me from enjoying the moment, head resting on Sherlock's bare chest, listening to the soft snores coming from him while watching the rain fall through the window, a piece of paradise considering the circumstances we'd found ourselves in. As the sun rose higher over the Birmingham skyline, I knew that my moment would soon come to an end, so I rose up as slowly as one could, located my discarded clothes before getting dressed to start my first day as the bookkeeper for the Peaky Blinders.

"Erika." I turned my head, thinking that I'd woken him only to find that he had rolled over on his side still very much asleep. Rolling my eyes I continued getting dressed, before stepping out of the room, lacing my shoes and heading out the door. Moving quickly down the street I approached the Garrison in record time, considering the fact that the flat was merely a block away, and the moment I entered I was whisked into another room where I'd spend the day going through all the finances of Birmingham's notorious gang.

For an hour I went through their winnings and spending's, calculating their expenses when a knock on the door broke my concentration. Turning to see who disturbed my work, I smiled sadly seeing Emilia step in and set a cup of tea on the table. She didn't say a word, yet there were things I had to say about the actions of my fiancée the night before. Grabbing her wrist I stopped her from moving any further, looking out the door to make sure we were alone before whispering "I apologize for anything he said that might have upset you." She smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I've never told anyone about Andrew." She said, her voice just as quiet incase someone showed up. "How he knew about the baby is incredible, having no prior evidence that I'd lost a child."

"The look in your eye the moment he brought up the man you came here for." I said looking back to the books while Emilia stood confused, trying to once again gain my attention. "Though he assumed about your lost child, for that I am sorry." Still standing with a smile on her face as she told me that all was forgiven. "To make up for the actions of my fia..." I stopped myself from saying to much before clearing my throat "For his actions, I want to invite you to tea later." 

"What were you about to say?"

"Nothing I merely misspoke."

"No you were going to say something."

"It's was nothing. Patron's will be coming in soon and I have work to do." I replied, sighing heavily. Yet instead of moving she remained standing to my left, watching me so when I turned to face her, her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. Sighing heavily I looked back to the books in front of me, trying hard to ignore the fact I'd made a very big mistake.

"You're engaged!" She said, a little to loud for my liking. So I turned towards her, hushing her while leaning back to make sure we were still very much alone. "You're engaged." She said, this time much quieter. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I wasn't, as far as everyone knows I am single." I replied, trying hard to concentrate on my job. "Aside from you, only two other people know and I would very much like to keep it that way." Looking out the door, I watched men walk in and into the other room so I nodded my head towards the young man waiting at the bar. "Thank you for the tea Ms. Irvine, but it looks like you've got customers." I stated and she sighed, before exiting the room and returned to the bar where she grabbed a bottle of whiskey disappearing through the door.

* * *

Rain continued to fall late into the night, and when we'd finally left the Garrison we rushed down the paved streets towards the flat, neither one of us spoke and when we'd finally made it to my temporary home she hesitated before entering. "He's been instructed to be on his best behavior." I reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder before stepping in. "Please have a seat, I'll make some tea." I told her as I passed Sherlock who sat in the main room, close enough to the window to see outwards but far enough to remain unseen, and into the kitchen. Emilia sat opposite of him, and for a while there was silence, that is until he did exactly as I'd asked the last night.

"I'm sorry for what I said." It wasn't what I would call a proper apology, but for Sherlock, it was the best Emilia would get and she knew that, informing him that she forgave him. With hat silence returned as I set down a tray with cups and the tea pot down on the table, taking a seat beside Emilia.

"Was anything of interest said at the meeting?" I questioned, her answer was nothing more than a nod as she filled her cup, lifting the saucer from the tray.

"Nothing of great importance, other than the fact that they have contraband hidden away somewhere." She replied before taking a sip from her cup. "Though I suspect that it has some of them on edge, worried that the government will be forced to intervene if the weapons aren't disposed of."

"If that happens then Moran will go back into hiding." I respond.

"There's more. There's talk of an expansion to London." She said leaning forward to set her cup down on the tray. "There's nothing confirmed as of yet, but they'll be talking about it during a family meeting. If the Government does get involved I'm sure that's where he'll run to." Sherlock leaned forward, hands clasped together in thought and I knew what that meant but before I could argue, Emilia spoke. "I know Mr. Shelby well, he's..." She stopped to clear her throat, "Excuse my crudeness, but he's spent many nights in my bed when I worked in the brothel. I can easily get in on the meeting and if it's true about their London expansion, then you'll be the first to know."

There was nothing I could say to change her mind, and even if there were she was right. We drank our tea in complete silence after that, and when she rose to leave Sherlock gave her a letter to mail to his brother while I took the dishes to the kitchen, fear eating away at my soul. I'd lost so much in the months since I'd began working for Aunt Martha, my mother, Jamie and nearly my own life, and the idea of losing another scared the hell out of me. "She knows the risk."

"We all know the risks, the dangers that come from this line of work." I replied, leaning into the sink, taking a deep breath. "But for just a moment let me be afraid, let me worry. For when tomorrow comes I don't want to fear for what lies ahead anymore."


	28. Strange Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

The day had started off just like all the others in the past few weeks, I got up at the break of dawn, got dressed and headed off to the Garrison where I'd spend the day sitting in front of records filled with illegal activities, about half way there I diverted, emptying my stomach in an alleyway. The strangeness didn't end there, the first arrive at the pub I immediately went to the room I'd been assigned to for working, sat down and got to work, enjoying the silence and the solitude. I don't know when I ended up falling asleep at the desk nor how long I slept, but eventually my sister arrived and all it took to wake me was her hand on my shoulder and a quiet call of my name.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you had a very active night last night." She said, a hint of humor in her voice. I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I lifted head off the desk, before taking the cup of tea in hand sipping the hot liquid before humming in satisfaction.

"I will have you know that sadly my night was not filled with vigorous love making." I informed her, setting my cup back down on the saucer. She giggled leaning into the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not that its any of your business about my romantic intimacies."

"No its not, but I've spent many mornings dozing off after a night of vigorous love making." She mocked.

"How many of those nights were spent with Thomas Shelby?" I asked, after the words left my lips I sighed, turning my head towards her a frown on my face. "I apologize that was unnecessary and incredibly ill-mannered."

"I've heard much worse." She responded, turning her head as the door opened. Sighing she peeked out into the bar, watched the typical patrons walk in and disappear into their room. "Suppose I should get their drinks, I'll bring you something to eat later." She said, to which I nodded not looking up from my work as she left. For an hour I fought off the want to fall asleep, and when she finally returned I found that once again I had dozed off. Placing a hand to my shoulder, she set a plate before me looking down at me with a smirk.

"I wasn't sleeping, only resting my eyes." I said before she had a chance to tease me, sitting up right as I moved the plate in front of me, eating my lunch. "Did they say anything?" I questioned and she shook her head.

"Nothing that concerns our plans. Though some IRA boys are interested in the weapons they have hidden." She said, frowning when I pushed my plate away.

"And the expansion?" I questioned and she shrugged her shoulders.

"They aren't saying anything." She answered. "The good news is I'm attending the races with Mr. Shelby tomorrow, perhaps then I can try and get something out of him." She added on.

"Just be careful alright? Moran already knows who I am, and brought you in as a bargaining ticket shall I pry to deeply into their affairs." I said before taking a deep breath in. Saliva filled my mouth as my stomach churned, swallowing quickly I pushed past Emilia and stepped out the backdoor taking a deep breath of foul smelling air.

"Now I've been told I'm not the best cook, but this is the first time my cooking has made anyone feel ill." Emilia said as she followed me out, holding out a glass of water. I took it, thanked her sipping at the cool water. "Perhaps its time to go home Piuthar."

"No." I simply replied, finishing my glass of water before handing it back to her. "I have work to finish and you have customers who are watching us." I nodded with my head, clearing my throat. She turned her head, walking back inside cursing in Gaelic while I took another deep breath. Making my way back into my room I sat down, closing the door behind me while opening the window to let in the crisp January air.

* * *

By the time I returned to the flat the one thing I wanted most was to lie down and sleep, yet the moment I entered I was greeted by two sets of identical brown eyes. "I wasn't aware we'd be having guest." I said, setting my coat on the empty chair and my pocket bag on the tea table. "I'll make some tea." Stepping into the kitchen I set the kettle onto the wood burning stove before sitting down at the table, elbow resting on the tabletop and my chin resting in my palm.

Closing my eyes I listened to their conversation, waiting for the kettle to whistle and let me know the water had began to boil. They talked all about what we've discovered here, and what felt like hours of listening to the two talk had only been 10 minutes. I barely heard the kettle whistle, and if it hadn't been for my future brother-in-law calling my name to inform me, I might have l let it go, but I rose from my seat, grabbed the tea pot, cups and set them on the tray making my way back into the main room.

I let my eyes close again once I sat down, listening to the sibling bickering, when I must have dozed off. One minute there was talking, and the next it was silent as I was lifted from my seat and carried to the bedroom. Laid down on the bed, I lifted my head from the pillow watching Sherlock walk into the other room. "Stay..." I begged as I reached out grabbing the cuff of his shirt, and stay he did. Laying down on the other side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Moving over I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes, listening to the soothing sound of his heart beating within his chest. "Emilia is looking into the London Expansion while at the races tomorrow." I whispered.

"And what of the accounts?" He questioned.

"They're constantly shifted between different businesses each week, then there's the amounts given to keep the police silent. Though are a few different business that have been constant, weapons manufactures." I said, before yawning my eyes now open staring into the darkened room.

"Just more proof that my theory is correct." I rolled my eyes.

"If Moritary is alive then he's in hiding just like you are, which means he knows you're alive and is waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

"And we shall be ready when he does, for now we wait. Right now we continue to focus on Sebastian Moran, eventually he'll make a miscalculation." He said. "One less pawn on the board and the king will be forced to move."


	29. London Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her family offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Now I see why Sherlock hated being stuck in the flat all day long, there was absolutely nothing to do. There's only so many times a person can re-read the paper before they have every headline memorized, so I thought perhaps I'd draw but my subject seemed as restless as I making it very difficult to capture him, I tried bribing him and it worked for a while but then he was back on his feet pacing back and forth. Instead I sat by the window, watching rain fall over the city, waiting for my sister to arrive with news of the Peaky Blinders London Expansion. I had been informed before I left the night before that my services would not be required for the day, and yet for some strange reason I missed it.

A cool breeze blew into the room through the open window, helping the stomach churning nausea that has been bothering me since last night, and if it was the fire that burned in the fireplace or the blanket resting over my lap the icy winds that blew in might freeze us. After nearly an hour of pacing, he finally sat down so I opened the sketchbook, took out a stick of charcoal from the leather pouch he'd given me months ago and continued where I had left off. For a man who refused to sit for a photo he was the perfect subject, he'd sit perfectly still while I drew yet occasionally he'd be back on his feet and I'd be forced to wait. I had started with his face, capturing every detail down to every wrinkle before moving onto his hair, the whole time he remained in his seat.

"I do hope you're capturing my good side." He said. Looking up from my sketchbook I shot him a glare, telling him to sit still while I worked and he just chuckled. "Bossy." I giggled, as I went back to his face, shading in the shadows below his bottom lip, chin and neck before blowing off the residue the charcoal had created.

"Finally a proper drawing of Sherlock Holmes." I said, admiring my art as he rose from the seat and standing behind me, looking at the drawing. "It's no where near the same quality as the art in the Galleries,"

"Perfect." He said, kissing my cheek before sitting back down in the chair beside me. I wouldn't call it perfect, in fact I was still very self-conscious of my art, yet I took his kind words to heart as I tucked the new drawing into the sketchbook. Turning my attention back out the window, I sadly watched the rainclouds float away as sunlight peaked between them. Pushing the blanket off my lap I rose from my seat, stretched before making my way into the bedroom to put my sketchbook away. Returning to the main room I sat down by the window taking a deep breath of foul smelling air, crisp and cold and very welcomed to aid my stomach.

Looking to the clock on the mantel, it was half past three which meant the race she was attending had ended and it would only be a matter of time before my sister arrived with news. Sighing heavily I turned my attention out the window, bored out of my mind, what I wouldn't do to return to London where at least there was something to do. I could go to the shop, take tea with family or friends, and yet I was stuck waiting, just as impatiently as my fiancée was, for my sister. At four a knock broke the silence, and excitingly I rose from my seat, opened the door and welcomed Emilia in.

She looked like a proper lady, beautiful even and I'd made sure she knew that. Dressed in teal, her golden hair locks were braided and pinned high on her head with a light grey hat pulling the entire look together. Handing me her jacket she stepped into the main room while I made my way into the kitchen getting tea together while she talked to Sherlock, when I arrived with the tray I set it down on the table and took my seat beside the open window. She took a cup, filled it with the earl grey tea before adding the sugar and crème, all the while she was silent. Her gaze caught my own and she smiled, juvenile and teasing meaning she got Thomas Shelby to tell her something, and instead of saying outright she was keeping us in suspense.  
"The Lamb and Flag." She simply said, raising the cup to her lips drinking her tea.

"A pub in Covent Garden, known well for it's bare-knuckle prize fighting, nicknamed the "Bucket of Blood"." Sherlock said.

"What of it Piuthar?" I questioned.

"That's the pub they've taken over in London, the expansion has happened and I've been offered a job there as barmaid." She replied.

"What was your answer?" I asked.

"I told him that I needed time to think on it." She said. "I'll gladly stay here if that's what you want or I can go to London." I glanced towards Sherlock, reading his mind as if I had an ability to do so, knowing exactly what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth. 

"Go back to Shelby, tell him you accept the job and will leave first thing in the morning." I said, and she nodded her head. "We'll meet you at the station." Rising from my seat I headed into the bedroom, grabbing our bags to pack. I listened as the door shut, sighing as I folded clothes and set them in their rightful bags, turning my head to see him standing in the doorway. "So we're off to London once more." He nodded. "Any idea of where we'll be staying?" I asked as he rummaged through the wardrobe drawers looking for a disguise for our return home, "Other drawer." I said.

"The Grand." He replied.

"And who pray tell will be paying for this?" I questioned, watching him pick out an outfit for tomorrow. 

"You will head down to the telegraph office, and relay a message to my brother." He responded and I nodded my head. "Inform him of our return, tell him to get a room."

"Under what name, can't really use the one I've been using here now can I?"

"How is your French?" He asked.

"Qu'est-ce qu'une belle maison que vous avez." I replied in what little french I'd managed to pick up on over the years. "Where are you going with this?"

"You are Marie Leblanc, heiress with a very wealthy father on vacation in London." He said, glancing back to look at me. "You never said you knew French."

"Vous n'avez jamais demandé."

"Pourquoi est-il quand parler une autre langue, il vous rend juste plus irrésistible?" He mumbled and I scoffed.

"Irresistible? Is that so?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow as a coy smile rose to my face. "Peut-être que je devrais parler Français plus souvent."

"Woman, we are packing for a return home. Now is not the time for..." He started to say, looking back at me.

"Ce n'est pas le moment pour ce que M. Holmes?"

"Tentateur."

"So you keep telling me." I replied. I was just about finished with the packing when the nausea returned. Pushing the bag to the side I sat down, asked Sherlock to open a window and took a deep breath of that foul smelling crisp Birmingham air for the last time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations (Appox)
> 
> Qu'est-ce qu'une belle maison que vous avez (What a beautiful house you have)  
Vous n'avez jamais demandé (You've never asked)  
Pourquoi est-il quand parler une autre langue, il vous rend juste plus irrésistible (Why is it when speaking another language, it just makes you more irresistible)  
Peut-être que je devrais parler Français plus souvent (Maybe I should speak French more often)  
Ce n'est pas le moment pour ce que M. Holmes (Not the time for what Mr. Holmes?)  
Tentateur (Temptress)
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments, the kudos and bookmarks. I'm glad so many of your are enjoying Erika's story, it really makes my day seeing new people read it and like it. Now if it's a little confusing about the timing, Sherlock and Erika have been in Birmingham a month or so (Approx 5-6 weeks) but the London Expansion has been a thing that's been talked about for a while. Please do enjoy the next chapter of Erika Irvine's story.


	30. Unplanned reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

A perfect subject, that's what my sister was. Sitting perfectly still across from me on the train, her gaze out the window, made her the perfect subject for a drawing. The lightening was exemplary, casting her in a yellowish glow, hard to capture without the use of color, but I made due with what I had. Every now and then she'd shift in her seat, though unlike Sherlock or the Doctor's dog I didn't need to bribe her to remain still with the use of a biscuits or other favors, when she moved it was usually to adjust herself in her seat before she'd return to the same position. She must have enjoyed the attention for she had a constant smile upon her face, or perhaps she was just as excited to return to our place of birth as I was.

"You make the same face mother used to when she was drawing." She said, breaking the silence that has plagued us since we'd boarded the train. She kept her voice low as to not wake the sleeping man beside me, giggling herself as he snored, yet not once moving. "How you can sleep with that is a miracle." She nodded towards him, a smile upon her face.

"You learn to ignore it, now please remain still I'm nearly finished." I said, looking up to her with a glare before returning my attention back to the drawing. After addition shadows and final details I passed her my sketchbook, letting her see the final product.

"If you sold your art, you could make a fortune." She said, while flipping through the drawings, stopping at one that I had not drawn. Her smile faded, turning to sadness as she followed the lines with her finger. "It's hard to believe that he put you through so much torment..." She mumbled. Confused I looked to which of the photo's she stopped at, and my smile to disappeared. My mother had drawn this years ago, and at the time Jamie was just an unruly child who loved playing pranks of Charlotte and I. 

"When you've spent most of your life working for immoral people, it tends to change you in the worst ways." I said, sitting back in my seat, cleaning up my art supplies before rising to put them back into my bag. "Jamie was offered a chance to save the family from debt, but at a steep price which he paid for with his life." She passed me back my sketchbook which I put in my bag, before I sat I placed a hand on her shoulder. "He told Sherlock and the Doctor were to find me before he died, I'd say that was his redemption." 

As I sat I turned my head, quickly wiping away tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. "You've never let yourself grieve." She said, and to that I shook my head, tears of her slowly fell down her cheeks and she made no move to stop them. "Then I will for us both."

"I appreciate that you're more than willing to bare the burden of carrying my sadness Emilia, I do." I leaned forward to wipe the tears from her face, giving her a sad smile. "But you need understand that I may have lost much in my life, family, friends and a good job, yet I've gained a great deal in return." She nodded her head, placing a hand over mine. "I found a decent job, reconnected with a family that wanted nothing to do with us and above all else I found myself falling in love with an unstable, irritating and impossible man. So do grieve for us both, do it for yourself, alright?" She nodded her head once more, pulling her hands away letting them fall back into her lap.

"Unstable, irritating and impossible you say? That's no way to speak of your fiancée." She replied, giggling ever so slightly.

"If you can come up with a better description of him, I'd be all ears." I replied, a smile on my face. As the train pulled into the station, I nudged him before rising up to grab our bags. He grumpily groaned, yawned and stretched out his arms taking his bag from my hands. "Now there is a carriage waiting for once you hit the streets that will take you to where you'll be staying."

"And where is that?" She questioned.

"With your beloved Aunt Martha, she has a room there you'll be free to use." Sherlock answered. "I'm sure she'll enjoy the company."

"We would have found a place closer, but seeing's how we left before making proper arrangements for you, it will have to do."

"For now, lets hope she's as kind to me as she was to you." She replied before wrapping her arms around me, whispered farewell and stepped out of the cabin.

"So how much of that did you hear?" I questioned, knowing full well that his act of sleeping was just that an act. Sure he did snore, loudly mind you, but he also talked in his sleep.

"Unstable, irritating and impossible man." He quoted what I had said, "Though the word Unstable is entirely incorrect as I am always stable."

"Perhaps your right, psychotic is a better word to describe you." I said, with a hint of a smile. "Now if you wouldn't mind Monsieur Holmes, I am incredibly tired from this trip and would like to get to the hotel." I stated in a French accent, or at least my best attempt at one as I stepped out of the train cabin and onto the train platform. Stepping outside I took a deep breathe, waiting for Sherlock before following along down the street towards the Grand hotel. 

When we entered the ornate building I was astonished, beautiful white marble floors surrounded on all four sides by off white color painted walls. We stopped at the reception, gave them my name and were handed keys to a room on the top floor. The room was just as lavish as the lobby, with green carpeted floors and walls to match, chandeliers hung from the ceiling and a elegant rested along the wall furthest from the door.

"C'est certainement à la hauteur d'une héritière." I said, setting my bags down and opening a window to let in the cool London breeze. "Alors maintenant, nous attendons, ai-je raison?"

"Yes, but I suspect it won't be long." He replied, turning his head where there was a knock on the door. I frowned and rose from my seat, cracking open the door to find Emilia with an innocent smile on her face, and from behind her a raging woman pushed passed us both and into the room.

"You..." Aunt Martha said. "You damn complete and total arse! Do you have any idea of the harm you have done?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations (Approx):
> 
> C'est certainement à la hauteur d'une héritière (It's certainly up to the standards of an heiress)  
Alors maintenant, nous attendons, ai-je raison? (So now we wait, am I right?)


	31. Already Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

_"You damn complete and total arse! Do you have any idea of the harm you have done?!"_

It's only been an hour since we've returned to London, and this was the last thing I was expecting when we arrived. After about 15 minutes of shouting, mostly coming from Aunt Martha and directed at Sherlock, silence had finally sat in. We took tea outside, and not a word spoken between the three of us, though I suspected that there were things she wished to say, and things I needed to tell her. Setting my cup down, I sighed looking back to my Aunt who looked angered and hurt by the deception, only knowing half of what truly had happened that night and the months following.

A year ago this might have eaten me alive, not being able to tell anyone a thing, living in secrecy but now I'd come to terms with the fact that this was my life now. Though there was hope that once this battle between good and evil came to an end, I might live a semi-normal life as wife to the worlds greatest Detective, free to come and go without worrying if I was being followed. "You've known all this time?" She suddenly questioned, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into the very real and tense situation.

"Yes." I answered right away, and she nodded her head. "I was there the night of their fall." She sighed and leaned forward to set her cup on the table, a deep frown on her face. "No matter how badly I wanted to tell you, I simply couldn't, not for my own safety but for yours. Until this ends between him and those who seek power, its not safe for him, me and until recently Erika."

"You once said that you've chosen your path, and I respect that, but including your sister in this?" She said, looking between my sister and I tears in her eyes.  
"Actually she included herself." I said, looking to my sister who couldn't meet my gaze.

"Don't be angry at her for telling me, I pressed her for answers about her spontaneous visit." Aunt Martha said. "I won't speak a word of this to anyone, and you can assure that man that his room has remained untouched, despite the fact that I could be using that if for another tenant." I smiled and nodded my head, placing a hand over hers. With our tea all but finished, we rose from our seats as they readied to return home and I returned to my room.

"Before you go, there's one more thing you should know." I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm betrothed." I've seen my beloved Aunt in her best of times and now I've seen her in her worst, but this emotion is one that I've never seen nor could I possibly describe.

"I-I beg your pardon." She said, and it was as if the entire world stopped. "You're betrothed? Please tell me its not to him?" She begged, to which I nodded my head. "Oh dear god, do you not know what that man is like? What you're life will be like?" She said. I listened as she told me of what my life would be, married to that man trying hard to keep a straight face, though the quiet giggles from Emilia did not help.

"Aunt Martha..." I said trying to stop her, when she continued I sighed and called her name again finally getting her to stop. "Of course I know what he's like. He's downright insane, impossible to be around at the best of times,"

"Irritating." Erika chimed in.

"Yes irritating, but none of that chances the fact that I've gladly accepted his proposal and once this is over I will be his wife." I said, a smile on my face. Aunt Martha sighed, knowing that there was no way to argue with me nor change my mind. "I've accepted the fact that I will never live a normal life, but if I've learned anything in the past few months of hiding its that I love this life that I've been given." I said just as the bells of Big Ben rang, indicating that it was half past four. "It's getting late, if I stay out any longer I risk being seen." I said, wrapping my arms around my Aunt, whispering an apology in her ear before starting back towards the hotel.

When I made it to the room I found him by the fireplace, newspaper in hand smoking on his pipe. I didn't say a word as I entered, instead I cleaned up the room despite the fact that normally chambermaids did that for regular guests. "I should have never dragged you into all of this." He said. 

"You didn't drag me into anything, I followed along on my own accord." I replied, standing up and removing the coat I used outside, laying it over a vacant chair. 

"You could be living a normal life, cleaning floors and rooms, perhaps married to a man and living in the country raising children."

"I'm either working as a maid or I'm married and living in the country, can't have both." I stated.

"You deserve better." He argued.

"Is that so? Well I'll be the one to decide how I live my life thank you very much." I said, picking up the tray that the staff had brought up earlier, "You finished with this?" He nodded his head, opening the door I set the tray outside, shutting the door behind me. "I have accepted that I will never have a normal life, and now if your quite finished trying to convince me that I'd have a better life elsewhere, I'm going to see if I can fetch us something to eat."

"Wait." He said, stopping me in my tracks, I turned towards him. He opened his mouth, yet no sound came out, and for some strange reason I knew exactly what he was saying without hearing it.

"You don't have to say it, I already know." I said, giving him a smile, before stepping out the door.


	32. Inconvenient Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

I was perfectly fine spending the day in the hotel room all day, I could sleep all day since I had spent most of the night emptying whatever was in my stomach into a bowl. But he suggested that I needed to get out, go to tea with my Aunt or Mary, maybe do some shopping. I suspected he was up to something, because never had he suggested that I leave so I pressed him for answers which he vaguely gave but he never openly said what he was up to. With little energy to argue, I did as he wanted, got out of the room and did some shopping before stopping at the Watson's residence for tea. It was a spontaneous visit or so I thought, but nevertheless I was welcomed as she let me in poured us both a cup of tea as we sat in the parlor.

We talked for an hour, all about my trip to Birmingham and reunion with my younger sister. I had expected her husband to join us, but after a while when he never did I knew something was going on that I had not been told about. When I brought up his absence, she too vaguely told me what was going on yet like my fiancée she never said what was going on. Perhaps it was the secrecy of the situation or the fact I was purposely being left out of things that bothered me, but the fact that nobody would tell me anything ate me up alive. Leaning forward I set my cup down, waiting until she finished with what she was saying before speaking.

"Something is going on, now if you won't tell me what's going on I'll find out on my own." I said. There was hesitation and silence for a moment, as she leaned forward setting her cup down on the table, sighing heavily.

"I assume you've heard about the murder at the Lamb and Flag." I nodded my head, knowing all about it from the morning paper. I didn't need to hear anything more, realizing that he'd finally decided that it was time to come out of hiding and had taken the case. But that didn't explain why I'd been left out of the loop, why nobody would tell me what was going on. "He figured that do to your current condition, it was best if you were left out of the plans." Current condition? If this was about the fact that I spent most of the night sick to my stomach, then he'd have a lot of explaining to do, for I was perfectly fine.

"I feel perfectly fine." I said, lying to not only the woman in front of me but to myself as well. Yes perhaps I've been feeling ill since Birmingham, I assumed that it was from the location and hoped that a return here might cure my ailing stomach.

"I don't mean to impose myself into your personal troubles, but are you sure?" She questioned. Was I sure? If she'd asked me last night if I was feeling alright I would have probably told her no, and in all honesty as I sat here now I wasn't 100% but my ailment didn't mean that I wasn't fit enough to finish what we had started. "I may not be a doctor, but I am a woman, and I know when another woman has been experiencing sickness due to pregnancy." 

No. Absolutely not. I've come to far for this to happen now. I was speechless, at a complete loss of words and whatever I could think of to say died on my tongue. It was untimely, inconvenient and yet deep down, like every woman who was expecting a child, my heart soared above the clouds at the idea of bringing a new life into this world. "I may be carrying a child, but that doesn't make me any less fit to carry on with what we'd started." I said, to this she nodded her head, picking up her cup of tea from the table.

"Perhaps not." She replied, sipping her tea with her eyes locked onto me. "But in the eyes of a man with more enemies than allies there's always the possibility for something to go very wrong." I scoffed and rolled my eyes, not going to openly admit that she was correct. "If you must continue with an investigation on your own, then perhaps you should take your fiancée's approach."

"And that would be?" I questioned, finishing off my cup of tea.

"Hiding in plain sight." She responded, she rose from her seat taking the tray into the kitchen. I sat there while she was gone, thinking over everything she had said before I rose from my seat grabbing my coat. I knew exactly where my next stop would be, and despite the fact that I had been sent away so that he could continue this on his own with his old partner, I wasn't about to lay in wait. Thankfully Covent Garden wasn't to far of a walk, and when I arrived the only person in the pub was the familiar golden haired barmaid, cleaning blood from the spot where Ronald Adair once laid. She looked up towards me the moment I entered, a smile on her face as she ran into my arms, tears falling.

"It was terrible Eri." She said, her voice quiet and full of sadness and fear. I held her tight in my arms, rubbing her back as she wept. When I pulled away I nodded to a table and helped her sit down, sitting across from her. Handing her a handkerchief I waited until her tears stopped, before asking her to tell me everything. "Mr. Adair came in around 9 last night, they were playing cards when he called out Moran for cheating." She started off, holding tight to my hand. "It was a silent pistol that killed him, I'd never seen anything like it before."

"A silent pistol?" I asked, and she nodded gasping for air. "Take a deep breath Emilia." I said waited until she had calmed down enough before speaking once more. "I have a job for you..."


	33. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thi

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

I never once argued about his decision when it came to the case he'd taken, I sat in silence while he went out and risked his own life and waited until he returned without protest. When he left I'd wait at least an hour before heading out to join my sister for shopping or tea, while she relayed my fiancée's exploit from the day before. It felt strange, after the last few months where I was once part of his investigation I was suddenly pushed away all because of the life growing inside me. She told me, voice full of excitement, about her travels around London following Sherlock and Watson, then she stopped mid-sentence.

"The stopped for Fish and Chips..." I said, looking back to her with a frown on my face. "Then what? That can't be all they did yesterday."

"Well the thing is, I'm not a professional but they caught on almost immediately." She replied. "He knew you'd sent me, but instead of telling me to leave he gave me another mission."

"Another mission?" I questioned and she nodded her head. 

"Seems he wants me to look into something going on the other side of the river." She replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Seems to believe that's where Moran has been staying where in London, think it has something to do with the man in charge."

"Moriarty." I replied, watching her emotions change from excitement to shock. "He believes that the Professor not only survived the fall in Switzerland but has been in charge of the Blinders." She shook her head, trying to understand.

"But Thomas Shelby is the head of the Peaky Blinders."

"So they say." I said, continuing down the paved streets. "But it makes sense. Money is constantly shifted between several different accounts, yet there were two regular accounts that showed up every week. One is situated here in London and the other in Germany."

"And lemme guess the one in London is over the river." I nodded my head and she scoffed. "Well then it looks I'll get the pleasure of meeting the most notorious criminal."

"Whatever you do, just be careful." I said, a frown on my face as I linked my arm with hers.

"I will, stop worrying." She said, a smile on her face. "Sherlock also informed me that I'll be needing a new name." I giggled and rolled my eyes. "I was thinking Saoirse MacCann."

"Is there a backstory?" I questioned and she nodded her head, rolling her eyes.

"I'm a Irishwoman here looking for work to feed my starving family." 

"Clever." She smiled and giggled stopping at one shop to look at the dresses on display. "So tell me what's it like living with Aunt Martha?" I asked her, looking in the window with a smile on my face.

"She reminds me of mother. Kind and compassionate." She replied, glancing towards me for a split second before looking back into the window. "Though all she can seem to talk about is your engagement." She giggled standing back from the window, linking her arm with my once more walking down the street. "He's a mad man! I just can't fathom the idea of being linked to that man." She mocked Aunt Martha's tone, causing us both to break out into laughter.

"Well holiday's will certainly be interesting, won't they?" I questioned.

"Now that I simply cannot wait to see." She giggled. We stopped at a few other stores, stopped for something to eat before I walked her home saying hello to my beloved Aunt and returning to the Grand just as the sun began to set over the horizon. When I entered our room I was surprised to find him reclined on the bed, papers scattered over the sheets and spilling onto the floor while he read the newspaper. Moving across the room I made room for myself on the bed, removed my shoes and pulling the pins that kept my hair up out, setting them on the side table beside the bed. Pushing my hair aside I reached back for the laces of the corset, when he set the paper aside unlacing the suffocating article of clothing around my waist and once free I expected him to go back to his case and yet his hand remained, tracing the scars on my back. Lips pressed to the back of my neck, gooseflesh broke out across my skin as my head rolled to the side and my eyes fell closed.

"There's to be an attempt on my life tomorrow." He said, and just like that the mood that he'd created was ruined. My eyes snapped opened as I turned around, concern and confusion evident in my eyes though before I could question him on what he meant he placed a finger to my lips keeping me quiet. "Would you kindly set up a decoy at Baker Street?"

"You should know by now that I will gladly do whatever you ask." I said, kissing his finger. "Even though you decided to leave me out of the rest of your plans."

"It's safest for you and..." His thought trailed off, his eyes darting towards my stomach. Placing a hand on his cheek I smiled, pulling his attention back up towards me.

"I know." I said. "I'll go there in the morning." Raising up from the bed I moved to the divider, removing my day clothes and changing into something more comfortable. As I turned to grab my robe I caught a glance of the scars and despite the fact that it happened months ago it felt like only yesterday when the whip tore at my skin. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath, pulling on an ivory dress along with my robe I crossed the room and laid down on the bed. 

"Ernest."

"Excuse me?" I questioned, opening my eyes to look up at him.

"The child's name."

"Ernest?" I questioned and he nodded. "No, I'm not naming our child Ernest."

"Adolf then."

"Absolutely not." I said, a hint of a smile upon my face. "James?" I asked, trying and failing to hide my grin. He glared down at me, picking up the paper once more though I saw the smile slowly rising to his face. "Is that a no?" After a few moments of silence he answered.

"Absolutely not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long to come out, usually I post a chapter each day but lately my life has been busy. I've also been thinking of making this story into a trilogy, the next will be centered around the next generation and set during the early Edwardian Era and the Great War, after that it will take place during the 40's. Let me know if you all like that idea, but in the meantime enjoy the next chapter of Erika's life.


	34. Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

It felt strange, being back to the place I once called home in a room that I was told to never enter, setting up a decoy made of wax by the window while across the street the chief Inspector, Doctor Watson and Sherlock waited for the lone gunman to arrive. After picking the right outfit, fitting the decoy with a wig and setting it close enough to the window I headed downstairs where my Aunt waited in the parlor with tea and biscuits. I sat down across from her filled my cup with tea then adding sugar and crème, before sitting back in my seat sipping at the hot liquid in my cup.

"I heard he sent Emilia on a mission across the river." She said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. I nodded my head, reaching for a biscuit and breaking it in half, leaning down to feed it to Gladstone who laid at my feet. "I understand you helping him but including Emilia..."

"She included herself." I replied before taking a bite from my biscuit, I chewed and swallowed before speaking. "While I agree that the mission he's sent her on is something that I'm not completely happy with, it's impossible to argue with him."

"If you continue to let him have his way, he'll only continue to take advantage of you." She argued, her eyes locked onto me full of concern and sadness. I was just about to raise my cup to my lips when she spoke, instead I set my cup down onto the saucer.

"It was me that agreed to allow Emilia to be part of this." Her eyes widened in shock, the cup in her hands falling to the ground. "If anyone put her in harms way it is me, though I should regret that decision I'd still be living in Birmingham if she hadn't joined us." She had nothing to say, instead her eyes that were once filled with concern and sadness shifted to horror and anger. Yes perhaps it was a mistake allowing Emilia to join us but I stand by my decision, knowing full well of the dangers she'd face.

A single gunshot broke the silence, as we both turned towards the stairs waiting for another and when no other shot echoed off the walls of the flat, I let out a sigh of happiness. One less enemy roamed the streets, now only one remained and it would only be a matter of time before he too was brought down for once and for all. 20 minutes passed before the door opened, and I had expected both Sherlock and Watson to enter yet only the good Doctor did, a frown on his face.

"I assume everything went as planned." Aunt Martha said, turning her angered gaze away from me towards him. He nodded his head, remaining in the doorway between the hall to the parlor, something was wrong.

"Where is Sherlock?" I questioned only to receive no answer. I rose from my seat, set my cup down on the table and crossed the room. "Where is Sherlock?" I asked, no, I demanded. Blue eyes fell to me, concern and worry evident, something was very wrong.

He sighed, his head fell forward averting his gaze. "Currently on his way to rescue your sister." I didn't need to hear anything more as I reached for my things, heading towards the door.  


"Where are you going?" Aunt Martha asked, rising from her seat.

"You're in no condition to help, his orders were for you to remain here." Watson argued. Ordered to stay here, while he rescued a woman that I'd unintentionally put in harms way, all because of the life growing inside me.

"What condition?" Aunt Martha asked, reminding me that when I returned that I'd have to tell me about the fact that I'd be bringing another Holmes into the world 9 months from now.

"I'm tired of hearing that I'm in no condition to do anything." I said, turning back towards the other two in the room, eyes full of the fear that I'd let go of months ago. "I'm not going to sit here and do nothing all because I have a child growing inside me."

"A child?!"

"You are free to try and stop me or join me." I said, opening the door looking for a free carriage that take me across the Thames. The door shut behind me and Watson passed towards a carriage, opening the door he turned towards me, offering a hand to help me in before sitting across from me telling the driver our destination. It seemed like the world had slowed around me as we sat in silence, heading across the river and towards the factory, when I finally broke the silence. "I assumed you'd try and stop me." He chuckled, eyes locked to the world outside.

"Even if I did, you'd find a way to get to the factory." He said, causing a small sad smile to work its way to my face. "I do hope you won't have to use this," He said, gaining my attention and in his hands sat a revolver which I took in my hands. "You do know how to use it?"

"You just point and shoot correct?" I questioned, earning another yet solemn chuckle.

"Something like that." He said, opening the door as the carriage pulled up to it's destination. He helped me down, keeping himself low as we approached the factory. I had promised myself that I'd let go of the fear that had plagued me since the day I first met the Professor at Hyde Park, but somewhere in this maze of buildings and factories, sat my sister and fiancée facing a matter of life and death. Approaching the building closest the water I raised the weapon I'd been given, ready for a fight yet there was nothing.

"Where is everyon-" I started to say before the sound of an explosion ripped through the air. The building burst into flames and the shockwave swept me off my feet, sending me into the air and into a nearby wall. Raising to my feet I watched in horror as flames engulfed the building, my heart coming to a stop in my chest. In that burning inferno and smoke, lie the bodies of the notorious criminal mastermind, an innocent barmaid who I'd unintentionally put in harms way and the man who'd stolen my heart.


	35. Only The Beginning

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

* * *

Cold winds blew in through the open door in the factory, dimly lite by setting sun in the east and lingering with the faint smell of gunpowder and oil. On one side stood the foremost champion of the law, on the other the most dangerous criminal and between them an innocent barmaid. The Professor sat in a wheelchair, unable to move his lower half due to the actions the Detective took that night over the Reichenbach Falls while Sherlock stood silent looking for an escape if not for him and the blonde between them, but at least for her. A injured ankle prevented her from moving, done on purpose or so he assumed to keep her from leaving in order to bring him here, though if he let her go now that Sherlock was there remained to be seen.

Dark eyes darted to the barrels of gunpower stacked together in the corner, then to few exits around them before falling to the gun Moriarty held in his hand pointed at Emilia's back. "There's no where to run Mr. Holmes, one step and Ms. Irvine dies." He was reminded listening to the faint click of the hammer being drawn back. Fear filled Copper eyes looked up towards him, begging silently that he leave knowing that as long as he lived, Erika would move on. Six rounds, odds of either one of them escaping without being shot was unlikely, unless he forced a distraction, just one second would buy them enough time to escape.

Looking back to Emilia he instructed her silently to move towards the exit as quickly as she could, and somehow like her sister she understood. "You're entire criminal organization is coming to an end, you are without funds how is killing one woman going to bring you back all that you have lost?" He questioned, making sure the Professors attention remain solely on him while Emilia slowly moved her way towards the eastern door.

"This bullet is not meant for her, but until you've heard what I've had to say she will be my shield should you decide on repeating your actions in Switzerland." The Professor said, firing one shot at the ground beside the blonde, five left.

"You have my full and undivided attention." Sherlock said, stepping to the side following the movement on the woman on the ground.

"I've warned you to not get involved Mr. Holmes, but time and time again you seem to find your way into my business." Moriarty said, following the two with the gun, firing off yet another shot to stop the woman from moving, four shots remaining with only one needed for his distraction. "A war is coming Mr. Holmes, despite your best effort to stop it. World War with my weapons supplying the highest bidder." She moved again and he followed suit stopping to dunk from the three rounds fired. His eyes glanced down to the puddle of oil beneath his feet, and now that the gun was aimed at him it was now or never.

Emilia lifted herself to her feet, hopping her way towards the exit but stopping to waiting for him to join her, yet he simply nodded with his head towards the exit. "I'm afraid you won't be around to see a war, you're time on this earth is done." Sherlock said, moving just in time to dodge the last bullet. Taking the young blonde into his arms, he moved quickly escaping the building just in time as the gunpower ignited, exploded and engulfing the building in flames. The shockwave threw them back, into the wall of the nearby factory, smoke surrounding them as ash fell from the sky like snow. 

Raising his head he watched the building burn, knowing inside the most dangerous criminal burned along with it a fact that had him turning his attention to the young woman he'd come to save. Fingers checked for a pulse and a hand swatted his away as she lifted herself up, watching the flames dance in the ruins of the factory. Looking to Sherlock, she smiled and mouthed thank you earning a nod from him as he lifted her to her feet helping her walk from the wreckage. Out of the smoke he could barely make out two figures watching the building he intentionally destroyed burn, and as Emilia freed herself from his grasp, hopping her way towards them, he realized that his orders to keep his golden haired beauty didn't stop her from traveling from the safety of Baker Street and into harms way.

Copper and Blue eyes fell to them as Emilia called out her sisters name, wrapping her arms around her as relief replaced the shock and sadness in the older Irvine's eyes. When they parted the youngest Irvine sister was led away by Watson who wanted to check on her ankle, while Erika stood still tears still flowing from her eyes. A hand wiped the tears away before gripping her chin a gentle grip, forcing her Copper eyes to meet his dark gaze. No words were spoken as she rose on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck and her lips brushing against his own, a tender kiss filled with the sadness and relief she felt. When she pulled away, she didn't move, her lips brushing against his, tears continuing to fall despite his best effort to keep them at bay.

"I hate to interrupt the moment, but Emilia needs proper care and rest." Watson said. Erika sank from her toes looking to the Doctor and back to Sherlock, nodding her head as she made her way towards her sister who sat in the carriage, while he moved to stand beside Sherlock. "So is this the end of the road for you ole cock?" He questioned his friend and partner, who took a moment to respond.

"No, it's merely the beginning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter left in Erika's story, and I've decided that this will be the beginning to a trilogy following two more generations. The next will be the daughter of Sherlock and Erika and the last will be their granddaughter's story. Thank you all for the support and love, this is my first complete multi-chapter story, and if not for the support it might have ended up like all the others, incomplete. Please enjoy the last actual chapter of When Fate's Collide, the next will be the epilogue.


	36. When Fates Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born into poverty, sent to school and kicked out of a home she'd worked in for years she had no where else to go, when someone from her mothers side of her famiy offered her a job, she accepted it without second thought. However, nowhere in the job details had she been told that her life would contain danger and worry. But that's what she got when she fell in love with a man with more enemies than allies, and honestly she wouldn't change a thing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Brothers and Village Road Show.

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Every story has an end, but when one door closes another opens and a new face takes over the legacy left by those who had come before. Four years had come and gone, in that time I'd become a wife to a man whom everyone once assumed would forever be a bachelor, I'd given birth to a beautiful baby girl who we named after my mother, we'd gotten a dog, a beagle, whom Aileana has named Oliver after her favorite snack. Sitting outside I watched her chase the dog around, sipping on tea joined with Emilia and Charlotte, who'd come for her yearly visit from Scotland.

"My word, she just keeps getting bigger and bigger each time I see her." Charlotte said, sipping at her tea, watching as Aileana made her way across the small yard, reaching for her cup of water I had given her. With dark hair and copper eyes, she was the perfect combination of her father and I, though everyday she became more and more like Sherlock. His intelligence, his abrasive personality and his deduction abilities all were evident in the four year old, who currently stood just to my left drinking her water staring up at her aunt with inquisitive eyes.

"Aileana, you know it's rude to stare." I said, lifting the four year old onto my lap.

"Auntie Charlotte has ink on her face." Aileana said, turning her attention away from her aunt and to the dog that curled up at my feet. Pulling a mirror from her bag, she checked her face finding three small drops of ink exactly where the four year old had pointed.

"I say, she's a deductive rascal isn't she?" Charlotte questioned smiling as tucked her mirror back into her bag looking to Aileana. "You're father must be so proud."

"You have no idea." I said, running a hand through the thick dark curls on top of her head.

"Where is he by the way?" Emilia asked, setting her cup of tea down on the table.

"In Lambeth I believe, solving a murder." I replied.

"You would think that with a child he might settle down."

"If he sits around to long he gets bored, and when he's bored he mopes around, experiments on the dog or shoots holes into the wall." I said, watching in amusement as the expression of both of my sisters change from content to shock. "So in order to keep the walls intact and the dog out of harms way, he takes cases to keep himself busy. Don't get me wrong he spends time with Aileana and I, but we're perfectly happy with the lives we live." I finished what I was saying just in time to watch the last of my guests arrive with her son following behind her. Aileana was off my lap in a flash running to her friend, taking him by the hand running into the yard with Oliver following in tow.

"It's as if she hasn't seen him in months every time they're together." Mary said as she made her way from the door to the table, sitting down in the vacant chair. "I do apologize for my tardiness, I do hope I haven't missed much."

"Aside from my daughter demonstrating her deduction skills?" I asked as I raised my cup to my lips.

"You should be proud of her, maybe one day she'll be a world renowned Detective like your husband." Charlotte said.

"Please don't say that, I dread the idea of Aileana facing the same dangers he does." I replied, looking to the children playing with a frown on my face. Yes the idea did cross my mind, and part of me did hope that she'd leave behind the same legacy her father had but the idea of her facing the same dangers, all to bring those who think they can get away with anything to justice, made me sick to my stomach. We talked while the kids played until the sun began to set to the east, when everyone left I gathered the exhausted four year old into my arms and made my way inside.

It was strange walking into the empty flats on Baker Street, no other tenants all to ourselves, a gift from my Aunt the day Aileana turned two. After a bath I was just about to put her to bed, but after a lengthy argument I caved letting her stay up and wait for her father to return. It was a little after midnight when the door opened and he walked in, by that time she'd fell asleep by the fireplace with Oliver at her side surrounded by her books. Looking up from my sketchbook I smiled to him, setting my book of drawings onto the tea table ready to get up and finally put her to bed when he moved across the room, gathering her up into his arms.

He disappeared up the stairs while I cleaned up the mess she'd left behind, extinguished the fire in the fireplace before heading up the stairs, Oliver following behind me stopping outside her bedroom door and peeking inside. On the way up here she'd awoken and had demanded a story, something I'd normally take care of yet instead of fetching me he sat on the edge of her bed, telling her our love story keeping the bits deemed to frightening or scandalous out. From our first meeting to our small country wedding, the entire time I stood by the door and listened wiping away the tears that fell. We'd come so far since that fateful summer day when I first stepped through the doors, from being tortured by my younger brother, stopping a criminal mastermind from starting a world war to finally saying I do to my impossible, irritating and psychotic man. Stepping away from the door I made my way to our room, stopping at the framed drawing I'd done by memory years ago then to the self portrait hanging beside it, when arms wrapped around my waist.

"I was thinking of donating some of my art to the National Gallery." I said quietly, a smile on my face.

"I assume these are the two you're thinking of donating." He replied and to that I nodded my head, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"Think the world needs a proper photograph of the great Sherlock Holmes. Though I'll be sure to leave your name out of it, and donate them anonymously."

"They'll need a name." He said.

"When Fate's Collide." I said after a moment of silence while I worked on the perfect name.

"When Fate's Collide?" He questioned before nodding his head, "It's perfect."

"Perfectly imperfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes Erika's story. Thank you all so much for the support and lovely comments, I appreciate all those who took time out of their day to follow along and leave kudos or bookmark this story. If not for you guys letting me know that you've enjoyed this story I may not have ever finished it. Now I normally don't tell someone to listen to a song while reading, but I wrote this while listening to Glee's I Lived which perfectly sums up Erika's feelings on her life.
> 
> Again thank you so much and I hope that you not only enjoy the conclusion but enjoy Aileana's story when I release it.


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